#I’ve been throwing my hands up and wailing at it all

[orangeblossomsintheair]

LIONHEART (2/3) – LN4

summary : lando's journey as a dad.

wc : 12k

an : lionheart was supposed to be a 2-parter but i hit the maximum wc for a post so i guess it's gonna have one more part 😭 not the most linear progression and not beta-read !

It had to be some kind of cosmic joke, you thought to yourself, the more you watched your son grow up.

Nine months of carrying him, swollen feet, back pain, cravings, and sleepless nights, only for him to come out as an exact replica of his father.

Had your genes even tried?

Your son was all Lando.

The wild mop of curls that defied gravity, his sun-kissed skin, that cheeky gap-toothed smile, and those bright aquamarine eyes that twinkled with mischief.

His resemblance to your husband was so uncanny that even Cisca, your mother-in-law, couldn’t stop commenting on it.

“It’s like going back in time,” she said one afternoon, watching your son dart around her garden, pretending to race with his toy car. “He’s exactly how Lando was at his age.”

She paused to chuckle. “And just as much of a handful.”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” you replied, sipping your tea with a tired smile. “I think the universe decided one Lando wasn’t enough, so now I’ve got two.”

Cisca patted your hand, laughing softly. “Well, you’re doing a wonderful job. Raising a mini Lando is no small feat, trust me.”

"Speaking of small," you quipped, watching your son determinedly try to drift his bulky toy car, tongue sticking out as he put his weight onto the steering wheel. "He’s just as tiny as his dad was, isn’t he?"

Cisca laughed, the sound warm and familiar as she watched her grandson’s antics. “Oh, absolutely. Lando was always the smallest in his class. It drove him mad. He’d come home every week asking me to measure him, convinced he’d finally grown an inch overnight.”

You snorted, imagining a pint-sized, gap-toothed Lando standing against a wall, demanding to see the ruler. “That sounds about right. Let me guess, he overcompensated by being the loudest kid in the room?”

Cisca nodded with a fond smile. “Loudest and most dramatic,” she added, her eyes twinkling. “He had this knack for turning every little scrape or fall into an Oscar-worthy performance.”

As if on cue, your son’s car lost its balance, and he tumbled to the ground, landing on his side but throwing his arms out dramatically.

“I crashed!” he wailed, flopping onto his back for full effect. “Someone call my pit crew!”

You buried your face in your hands with a groan, trying not to laugh, while Cisca chuckled beside you.

“And there it is. Just like his father.”

Lando chose that exact moment to walk into the garden, a drink in hand, eyebrows raised as he surveyed the scene. “What’s going on here?”

“Your mini-me just reenacted your entire childhood,” you replied, nodding toward your son, who was now lying in the grass, muttering something about needing new tires.

Your son immediately perked up, pointing at his completely intact toy car. “The wheel came off, and the engine’s making weird noises!”

Lando grinned, sauntering over and crouching down next to his son. “Alright, mate, what’s the damage?”

“Hm, sounds serious,” Lando said, nodding solemnly. “We’ll have to get you back in the garage. Can you make it?”

Your son nodded fiercely, throwing his arms around Lando’s neck as he scooped him up effortlessly. Watching them, you couldn’t help but smile.

—

Raising Lando Norris’s mini-me had been a chaotic blend of exhaustion, love, and endless laughter. From the moment your son came into the world, Lando had been there, fumbling his way into fatherhood with all the charm and clumsiness that only he could manage.

The first night at home was chaos.

Your son cried nonstop, his tiny lungs working overtime as the sound echoed through the house.

You were sprawled on the couch, clutching a pillow like it was the only thing tethering you to sanity. Every muscle in your body ached from exhaustion, and you could barely lift your head to look at Lando, who was pacing the living room.

“I’ve got this,” Lando announced confidently, his voice momentarily louder than the wails of your newborn.

He cradled your son in his arms, gently swaying back and forth. “Alright, buddy, what’s wrong? You hungry? Tired? Bored? Yeah, same, honestly.”

“Lando,” you groaned, muffled by the pillow, “he’s a baby, not a pit crew member.”

He ignored you, crouching slightly as he made exaggerated eye contact with your son. “Okay, listen, mate. I need some feedback here. Blink twice if you’re hungry. Cry louder if you’re overtired. Just... give me something to work with.”

Your son, predictably, kept crying, his tiny fists flailing in the air. Lando sighed dramatically. “Tough crowd. Alright, plan B.”

“Plan B?” you asked, lifting the pillow just enough to raise an eyebrow at him.

Without answering, Lando started bouncing lightly on his heels, his voice dropping into a soft hum.

At first, you couldn’t place the tune, but after a moment it hit you- he was humming the McLaren theme tune.

The one he used to play in the car after races, the one that made its way into every highlight reel.

“Are you seriously singing a racing anthem to our newborn?” you asked, your voice half-incredulous, half-amused.

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it,” he replied, a teasing grin on his face. “Besides, it’s working.”

You blinked and realized, to your absolute shock, that Leo's cries were starting to fade. His tiny body relaxed slightly in Lando’s arms, the relentless wailing softening into hiccupping sobs.

“No way,” you muttered, sitting up straighter. “Are you some kind of baby whisperer now?”

Lando smirked, still swaying as he hummed softly to Leo. “What can I say? I’ve got a gift,” he said, casting a quick glance your way. “Or maybe it’s destiny. He’s clearly a McLaren fan already. Chip off the old block, huh?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned against the doorframe. “Destiny? You hummed one tune, and now you think he’s a fan for life?”

Lando shot you a playful grin, looking down at Leo, whose cries had softened into sleepy hiccups.

“See this? He’s calm now. That’s McLaren magic, love.” He paused, his voice dropping into a mock-serious tone. “That’s right, little man. Team McLaren all the way. We’re a family of winners.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Don’t let your Uncle Carlos hear you say that. He’ll be over here with Ferrari onesies faster than you can say pit stop.”

Lando laughed, rocking Leo gently as the baby’s eyelids fluttered. “Nah, no way. Right, Leo?” He leaned down, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t let Uncle Carlos fool you. Red’s not your color, mate. Papaya suits you better.”

“Lando,” you groaned, trying not to laugh. “He’s a baby, not a brand ambassador. He doesn’t even know what colors are yet!”

Lando shrugged, grinning as he paced the room. “Doesn’t matter. He’s got taste. I mean, look at him- calm, collected, already understanding the importance of good engineering.”

You finally let out a laugh, unable to keep a straight face. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re welcome,” he shot back, shifting his grip to hold the baby closer to his chest. “Seriously, though. I think I’ve found my secret weapon. Next time he cries, I’ll just sing him some F1 radio clips. Maybe a little ‘box, box, box’ to calm him down.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, but you couldn’t stop laughing. “I can’t believe this. Our baby is going to grow up thinking pit stops are a lullaby.”

“Could be worse,” Lando said with a shrug. “He could think Formula 1 isn’t the best sport in the world. Now that would be tragic.”

“Lando,” you deadpanned, “please don’t turn our child into a walking race encyclopedia before he can even walk.”

“No promises,” he replied cheekily, pressing a kiss to the baby’s forehead as he finally, miraculously, drifted off to sleep. “But for now, I’ll settle for a good night’s sleep. For all of us.”

You leaned back against the couch, watching Lando as he gently carried your son to the bassinet. He moved carefully, like he was holding the most precious thing in the world—and, of course, he was. As he laid the baby down and tiptoed back to you, his goofy grin made your heart swell.

“See?” he whispered, sliding onto the couch beside you. “I told you I’ve got this.”

You shook your head with a soft laugh. “Alright, Dad of the Year. Just don’t forget to get me some water next time.”

He winked. “Coming right up, love. Anything else? Snack? Back massage? Pit crew?”

You threw the pillow at him, but you were laughing too hard to aim properly.

—-

The next night wasn’t much better, Leo seemed to have developed a personal vendetta against sleep, and you were convinced he had some kind of sixth sense that detected the exact moment you closed your eyes. The instant your head hit the pillow, his cries filled the room, pulling you out of the haze of near-sleep.

You groaned, rolling over to see Lando already sitting up in bed, his hair sticking up in all directions like he’d just stepped out of a wind tunnel. He rubbed his face, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a pit crew strategy.

“I’ll get him,” he mumbled, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Stay here.”

But you were already sitting up, determined to share the burden. “No, I’ll go. You did the heavy lifting last night.”

Lando turned, his expression softening despite the exhaustion etched into his features. “Love, you carried Leo for nine months. I’ve got this.”

“You said that last night,” you countered, though your voice lacked the strength to argue properly.

“And I delivered, didn’t I?” he shot back with a teasing grin, standing and heading toward the bassinet before you could protest further.

You flopped back onto the mattress, listening to the soft sounds from nursery next door as Lando picked up your son and began his now-signature routine: the light bouncing, the exaggerated baby talk, and, of course, the humming. This time, the tune wasn’t the McLaren theme, it was his radio message after his first win.

“Let’s gooooo,” he whispered dramatically, his voice soft and playful. “Who’s a little legend? You are. That’s right. Just like Dad, huh? Winning every battle, even the ones against sleep.”

From your spot on the bed, you couldn’t help but smile. His ridiculousness was oddly endearing, and somehow, it worked. The cries began to fade again, replaced by soft hiccups and the occasional sniffle.

Lando returned a few minutes later, cradling your now-snoozing baby with a triumphant expression. “Another successful pit stop,” he declared, easing onto the bed beside you.

“You’re unbelievable,” you said, shaking your head.

“Thank you,” he replied, deadpan, as if you’d just complimented his driving skills.

You sat up, peeking over his shoulder at the peaceful little face nestled against his chest. “You know, if this whole racing thing doesn’t pan out, you might have a future as a baby whisperer.”

He snorted. “Racing will always pan out. But if not, maybe I’ll open a sleep training clinic for newborns. ‘Lando’s Lullabies,’ what do you think?”

You smacked his arm lightly, though you couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped. “I think you’re delusional from lack of sleep.”

“Probably,” he agreed, leaning his head against yours. “But hey, we’re surviving, right? That’s the real victory.”

You sighed, letting the warmth of his presence wrap around you. “Yeah. We’re surviving.”

“And thriving,” he added, glancing down at the baby. “Well, he’s thriving. We’re hanging by a thread, but that’s what parents do, right?”

“Right,” you murmured, the exhaustion temporarily eclipsed by a deep sense of gratitude. “We’ve got this.”

He grinned, his free arm pulling you close. “That’s the spirit, love. Now, go back to sleep. I’ll stay up a little longer, just in case.”

—-

(A few months later)

The weekend had finally arrived, and with it came a rare sense of relief as Lando’s parents pulled up to the house.

You were sitting on the couch with Leo cradled in your arms, his tiny fists wrapped around your finger.

Lando was sprawled next to you, his head resting on your shoulder, looking just as exhausted as you felt.

The door opened, and Lando's dad, Adam, stepped in first, his face lighting up the moment he saw Leo. “There’s my grandson! Hand him over, I’ve got this,” he said, already reaching out with eager arms.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not even a hello for us, Adam?”

“Hi, darling,” Adam replied quickly, flashing you a grin before focusing entirely on Leo. “Alright, little man. Granddad’s here. Let’s give your mum and dad a break, yeah?”

Lando’s mom, Cisca, followed closely behind, holding a casserole dish and a tote bag filled with who-knows-what. “And I’m here to make sure this house doesn’t fall apart. You two look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“We haven’t,” Lando said dramatically, sitting up and stretching. “Leo’s been practicing his lung capacity every night. Future Norris athlete in the making.”

“Alright, you two,” Cisca said, setting the bag down and clapping her hands. “You’re officially off duty. Go take a nap, watch a movie, do whatever it is you haven’t had the time to do. We’ve got this.”

“You don’t have to do all this,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction. The idea of a nap, an uninterrupted nap, was already making your body ache in anticipation.

“Sweetheart,” Cisca said, her voice softening as she placed a hand on your arm. “This is what family is for. You’re doing an amazing job, but even superheroes need a break. Let us help.”

Cicsa moved away with a smile, already pulling on a pair of cleaning gloves. “Anyway, I’ve raised two boys and managed Adam. This is a piece of cake.”

“Hey!” Adam called over, bouncing Leo gently. “I resent that.”

“You love it,” Cisca shot back with a wink before turning to you. “Now, shoo. “

You hesitated, glancing at Lando. “Are you sure? The house is a mess, and Leo’s been fussy all morning. I don’t want to dump everything on you two.”

“Nonsense,” Adam said, already bouncing Leo gently. “We’ve raised kids before, remember? This is nothing. Go.”

Lando grinned, nudging you with his elbow. “You heard them. Free babysitters. Let’s not waste this golden opportunity.”

Cisca rolled her eyes fondly as she started tidying the living room, picking up stray baby toys and discarded blankets. “You two deserve a break. Parenting isn’t easy, and you’ve been doing a wonderful job. But everyone needs help sometimes.”

Reluctantly, you let Lando pull you off the couch, your body protesting every movement. “Okay, but if he gets hungry-”

“I know how to warm a bottle,” Cisca interrupted gently, her voice filled with warmth. “We’ll call you if we need anything. Now go.”

As Lando grabbed your hand and led you toward the stairs, you couldn’t help but glance back. Adam was rocking Leo, humming softly, while Cisca was already organizing the clutter in the kitchen.

“They’ve got it,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And we’ve got each other.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “I still feel a little guilty.”

“Don’t,” Lando said firmly, steering you toward the bedroom. “They want to help. And we need this. Just a couple of hours to recharge, yeah?”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the past few sleepless nights begin to fade. “Yeah. You’re right.”

The bedroom was bathed in the soft, warm glow of the sun, the kind of light that made everything feel just a little bit more peaceful.

For once, there was no crying, no laundry to fold, no bottles to sterilize. Downstairs, the gentle hum of Lando’s parents chatting with Leo filled the air, but up here, it was quiet. Blissfully quiet.

You lay sprawled on the bed, your limbs heavy with exhaustion but your heart lighter than it had been in weeks. Lando lay beside you, his head propped up on his hand, watching you with a small, soft smile that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in days.

“What?” you asked, your voice a low murmur, too tired to even tease.

He shook his head, his curls falling into his eyes. “Nothing. Just looking at you.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real annoyance in it. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, shifting closer so he could rest his hand lightly on your waist. “But I’m serious. I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

“I’m right here, Lando,” you said softly, though the words felt heavier than you meant them to. You knew what he meant. The chaos of parenthood had left little time for anything else, especially for moments like this.

“No, I mean…” He paused, his fingers gently brushing against the fabric of your shirt, tracing absent patterns. “I’ve missed us. The way we used to just… be, you know? Before all the crying and nappies and figuring out how to keep a tiny human alive.”

Your throat tightened a little at his words, the weight of guilt creeping in again. “I know. I’ve been so caught up in being a mom that I…” You trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

“That you forgot to just be you?” Lando offered, his voice gentle, no trace of judgment.

You nodded, blinking back the sudden sting in your eyes. “Yeah. That.”

He let out a soft sigh, his hand moving to cup your cheek, tilting your face so you were looking at him. His eyes were earnest, filled with that boundless affection that you didn't know what to do with most of the time.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’re an amazing mom. The best. But before you were Leo’s mom, you were you. The woman I fell in love with. The woman who lights up every room she walks into. And I don’t want you to lose her.”

“I don’t know how to do that, Lando,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “I feel like all I am right now is tired and messy and just… not enough.”

His brow furrowed, and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead in a lingering kiss. “You are more than enough. You always have been, and you always will be.”

You tried to look away, the intensity of his words clawing at your throat, but he didn’t let you, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. “And you’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he added, his voice taking on that familiar playful lilt. “Even with the spit-up stains and the messy bun.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Flatterer.”

“Not flattery. Just facts,” he insisted, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. Then your cheek. Then the tip of your nose. Each kiss was soft and slow, like he was trying to make you believe every word he said.

“Lando…”

“Shh,” he murmured, his lips finally finding yours. The kiss was gentle, filled with a warmth that made your chest ache. It was a reminder, a promise, and a thank you all wrapped into one.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Thank you for Leo. For everything. For letting me do this life with you.”

Tears prickled at your eyes, but this time they were the good kind. “You don’t have to thank me, Lando. We’re in this together, remember?”

“I know,” he said with a small smile. “But I’m going to thank you anyway. Because you deserve it. And because I don’t say it enough.”

He pulled you closer then, wrapping his arms around you as if he could shield you from every ounce of exhaustion and doubt you carried. For a moment, you let yourself melt into him, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I love you,” he said softly, his lips brushing against your hair. “And I love Leo. But I don’t ever want you to forget- you’re more than just a mom, yeah?”

—

The morning light streamed through the curtains, soft and golden, bathing the room in a peaceful glow. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you woke up feeling truly rested.

No cries echoing through the baby monitor, no bleary-eyed stumbles in the middle of the night. Just the warmth of the bed, the sound of birds chirping outside, and the gentle rise and fall of Lando’s chest as he lay beside you.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you turned your head to find him already awake, his curls messy and his face relaxed in a way that made him look impossibly boyish. His eyes met yours, and a slow, lazy grin spread across his lips.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice husky from sleep.

“Morning,” you replied, your own smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Did we really just sleep through the night?”

Lando stretched, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you closer. "Looks like it," he whispered. "Feels illegal, honestly. Like we’re breaking some kind of parental code."

You let out a soft laugh, your hand instinctively resting on his chest. “I forgot what it feels like to be this… alive.”

“Same,” he said, his grin turning cheeky. “Although, I don’t think we should waste this newfound energy.”

Before you could reply, Lando leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was warm and slow at first, but quickly deepened into something more heated. His hand slid up your back, pulling you flush against him as his other hand tangled in your hair.

“Lando…” you mumbled against his lips, pulling back slightly. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” he said, his grin widening as he trailed kisses down your jaw and back to your mouth. “I’ve just missed kissing you like this. No interruptions, no spit-up, no baby monitor beeping at us..”

His lips captured yours again, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, the world narrowing down to the warmth of his body and the way his hand slid up your side. But then reality came crashing back, and you pulled away just enough to mumble, “Lando, my body’s… not ready for anything. You know that, right?”

He pulled back, raising an eyebrow and looking at you like you’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Well, obviously. Don’t doubt my research, babe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, smacking his chest lightly. “Your research?”

“Yes, my research,” he said with mock seriousness, leaning back down to kiss you again. “I’m well-informed, thank you very much. And I know exactly what you need right now- just this.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, his hand cupping your cheek as if to prove his point.

“Just kissing,” he murmured between kisses. “No pressure, no expectations. I just want you.”

You sighed into the kiss, your hands finding their way into his messy curls. It had been so long since you’d felt this close to him, and it was intoxicating. The way he kissed you made you feel like you were the center of his universe, like he couldn’t get enough of you.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting together.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he said, his voice rough.

“Me too,” you admitted, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, he spoke again, his voice lighter now. “So… what do you think about getting a cleaner?”

You blinked, pulling back slightly to look at him. “A cleaner?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “Not full-time or anything. Just someone to help out a few days a week. Give us a little breathing room with the chores. Time to, you know…” He smirked, leaning in to steal another quick kiss. “Do this more often.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible but practical,” he corrected, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look at you properly. “Not full-time or anything. Just someone to help out a few days a week.“

You bit your lip, considering it. The idea of having some extra help was tempting, but you weren’t sure how you felt about leaving Leo with someone else, even for a few hours.

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip. “I don’t know, Lando. I mean, I love being with Leo. I don’t want to miss anything.”

“And you won’t,” he reassured you, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I feel like I should be able to handle everything. Like... isn’t that what moms are supposed to do?" you admitted.

"Hey," he said, tipping your chin up so you were looking at him. "You’re already handling everything. And you’re doing it brilliantly. But there’s no rule that says you have to do it all alone. Asking for help doesn’t make you any less of an amazing mom. It just means you’re human."

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt a lump form in your throat. "You really think it’s a good idea?"

"I do," he said firmly. "But only if it’s what you want. We’ll make it work either way. I just want to make sure you’re okay, love. That we’re okay.”

“Just think about it. No rush. No pressure. But if it means more mornings like this… it might be worth it.”

He kissed you again, and you couldn’t help but melt into him, your worries momentarily forgotten. For now, all that mattered was this moment, the two of you, together, with nothing else in the world but the warmth of his touch and the way he made you feel like you were still the most important thing in his life.

—

After some thought and plenty of conversations, you and Lando finally decided to hire someone.

It wasn’t a full-time helper, just someone to help around the house, take care of the cleaning, and keep things a little more organized.

You still handled all of Leo’s needs together, but the weight of the mess hanging around, making everything feel just a little more overwhelming, was finally lifted.

A few days of the cleaner settling in, things felt noticeably smoother. The house no longer looked like a war zone, and the chaos of being first-time parents seemed a little less overwhelming with the clutter finally under control.

One evening, after you’d finally gotten Leo to sleep and both of you had managed to survive a particularly difficult round of diaper duty, you and Lando flopped onto the couch.

He stretched out dramatically, groaning like he’d just completed a marathon.

“Okay, I don’t care what anyone says. Getting Leo to bed is like running a 5K.” Lando let out a deep sigh, making a show of rubbing his temples as if he’d just solved world peace.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement. “Oh, please. You’re a Formula 1 driver. Getting a baby to sleep should be a walk in the park compared to dodging crashes and tight corners.”

Lando shot you a side-eye, his lips quirking into a teasing grin. “Pfft. Formula 1 doesn't prepare you for a baby that won’t stop crying. No amount of pit stops will save you from that chaos.”

“True,” you said with a chuckle, snuggling up against him. “But at least we’re not cleaning up a whole pit crew’s worth of mess every two hours anymore.”

Lando kissed the top of your head and sighed in contentment. “Thank God for that.”

—

Lando was sitting on the floor, his legs crossed as he gently held Leo in his arms. The baby’s little hands gripped onto his fingers, his tiny face still a little scrunched in concentration.

You were watching from the couch, feeling a quiet sense of joy as you observed the two of them, when it happened.

Leo, with a little puff of air, let out the tiniest, most uncoordinated gummy smile. It wasn’t much, just a small curve of his lips, but to Lando, it was everything.

Lando froze, eyes wide as his gaze locked onto Leo’s face. He blinked, then blinked again, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“Did… did he just-” His voice cracked, and before he could finish, tears welled up in his eyes.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “He smiled at me. He smiled.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, watching as Lando’s expression shifted from disbelief to pure adoration. He looked down at Leo, his hand trembling as he brushed a lock of hair away from the baby’s face.

Leo cooed softly, clearly content, and gave him another gummy smile. That was it. Lando completely lost it.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “My son… my son smiled at me.”

Lando cradled Leo in his arms, his gaze fixed on the baby with a mixture of awe and absolute adoration. He swayed back and forth, humming softly under his breath, as though trying to coax some kind of miracle out of his little son.

"Mama’s turn now," Lando said in a voice full of tenderness, walking toward you with Leo facing you. "Smile at Mama, Leo!"

You leaned forward, your hands resting on your knees as you watched Lando’s every move, heart swelling. “You think he’s really going to smile on cue?”

“Just wait,” Lando said with a grin, gently bouncing Leo. "Look at Mama, little man. Show her your big, gummy smile!"

For a moment, there was only the soft sound of Lando’s voice, and then... it happened. Leo’s face scrunched up as he stared up at you with those big, innocent eyes. And then, like a flash of light, his lips curled up in the tiniest, most precious gummy smile.

You felt your heart explode. Without even thinking, you reached a hand to cover your mouth as a soft sob escaped. "Oh my God," you whispered, tears already brimming. "He smiled at me, Lando."

Both of you stared at Leo, the tiny bundle who had no idea he had just performed the greatest act of cuteness in the history of parenthood. He just blinked up at you both, totally clueless, his little hands batting in the air, completely unaware of the emotional chaos he’d triggered.

Lando’s voice was shaky as he looked at you, a tear slipping down his cheek. "Look at him. He’s perfect. He’s ours. He smiled, love. He smiled!"

You were laughing and crying at the same time, shaking your head in disbelief. "I can’t. This is... too much."

Lando gently shifted Leo so that he was facing you both, as if presenting him to you like the greatest treasure. "See, buddy?" Lando whispered to Leo, his voice thick with emotion. "You’re gonna break hearts with that smile. Just like your mama."

You wiped away a tear, reaching out a hand to gently touch Leo’s tiny foot. "I can’t believe how much I love you two," you said, your voice barely a whisper.

Lando was full-on crying now, unable to contain the tears as he held Leo to his chest again, taking a deep breath and wiping his eyes. “I didn’t know it was possible to love you more every day,” he said, voice cracking with emotion. “But then... he does that,” he gestured lazily at Leo, “and suddenly I love you both a thousand times more.”

You reached up to gently wipe a tear from his cheek, your hand trembling just slightly. "I know," you whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly. "I love you both too."

Leo, completely unaware of the full emotional depth of the moment, simply gurgled in his sleep, his hands curling into fists, still smiling in his own little, clueless way.

You laughed softly, your voice still thick with emotion. "He’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen."

"Yeah," Lando agreed, his voice still a little raw. "He’s perfect. And he’s ours. I didn’t know I could feel like this,” he said, choking on his words, his voice cracking even more. “I’m so proud. I’m just… so proud of him already.”

You got up from the couch, walking over to where Lando was, a small, amused smile playing on your lips. You kneeled beside him, brushing your hand gently against his arm. “You’re a mess, you know that?”

Lando wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, his face flushed with both emotion and embarrassment. “I didn’t sign up for this,” he said, looking at you through misty eyes. “This whole dad thing is gonna kill me. I can’t handle it.”

—

Lando was peacefully asleep on the couch, his arm draped lazily over his face, a soft snore escaping his lips as he lay on his back. Leo was nestled against his chest, his tiny hands swiping aimlessly as he slowly woke up, blinking his big eyes in the morning light.

You sat on the edge of the couch, your heart swelling as you watched the two of them. The sight was adorable- Lando, always so composed, now a soft, unguarded mess with your son lying on top of him. You leaned in to scoop Leo up for a cuddle, ready to give Lando a break from baby duty.

But just as you reached down to lift Leo, you froze. Leo’s tiny hand shot out, and in one swift move, he grabbed onto Lando’s nose with both little fists.

You stifled a laugh as Lando remained blissfully unaware, still deep in his sleep. Leo, on the other hand, was gripping his dad's nose like it was the most important thing in the world, his little fingers digging in as if holding onto a treasure.

You leaned over and tried to carefully pry Leo’s hand off his dad’s face, but Leo wasn't having any of it. His grip tightened, and he let out a soft giggle of his own, clearly delighted by his newfound power.

"No way, Leo," you whispered through your giggles. "Let go of Daddy’s nose."

But Leo just grinned and gave an enthusiastic tug, which only made you laugh harder. Lando, still unaware, snored a little louder, completely oblivious to the tiny assault on his nose.

You tried again to pull Leo away, but it was no use. Leo refused to let go. The more you tried, the more Leo seemed to cling to his dad’s nose with newfound determination.

"You little troublemaker," you giggled, your fingers now gently tickling Leo’s side in an attempt to distract him. "Daddy’s gonna wake up with a nose full of baby drool, and you're gonna be the one to blame."

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of baby antics, Lando stirred slightly. His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked, clearly confused as to why he felt a strange sensation on his nose. He looked down, and his gaze immediately landed on Leo, still gripping his nose like it was the most important thing in the world.

Lando blinked a few times, his lips twitching into a smile. "Leo..." he said groggily, his voice thick with sleep. "What are you doing, buddy?"

You couldn’t contain your laughter anymore, and you let out a full giggle. "He’s got you, Lando. He won’t let go."

Lando’s eyes softened as he looked at Leo, who was grinning back at him, completely unaware of the trouble he’d caused. "Well, guess I’m stuck with this now, huh?" Lando chuckled, gently moving Leo’s tiny hand from his nose. “I guess I should be flattered.”

You leaned in to kiss Lando on the cheek, still giggling. "You should be. I think Leo just claimed you as his personal jungle gym."

Lando smiled, finally fully awake now, and carefully lifted Leo off his chest, giving him a small kiss on the forehead. "Guess he loves me more than I thought."

"Just wait until he starts grabbing your hair," you teased.

Lando laughed, giving Leo a soft, affectionate squeeze. "I’ll take it. It’s just another part of the adventure."

You watched the two of them, your heart full. “Yeah. Another adventure,” you agreed softly, feeling the warmth of your little family wrap around you.

—

It was one of those rare, quiet afternoons. Sunlight poured through the windows, casting a soft glow over the living room where you sat with Leo cradled in your arms. His tiny body was warm against yours, his head nestled just beneath your chin. You were humming softly, tracing little patterns on his back, lost in your own world.

But Leo? Leo was in his own universe and it revolved entirely around you.

He tilted his head back slightly, his wide, curious eyes locking onto your face like you were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

His little hands reached up, fingers brushing against your cheek. Every time you moved, even slightly, his gaze followed with a level of intensity that would’ve made a detective jealous.

“Hey there, buddy,” you whispered, smiling down at him. “What’s got you so mesmerized?”

Leo didn’t answer, of course. He just blinked at you, his big, gummy smile spreading across his face like sunshine breaking through clouds.

“Is it the song?” you teased, tilting your head. “Or are you just checking to see if I’m as tired as I feel?”

Lando walked in from the kitchen, a glass of water in his hand, and froze when he saw the two of you. “Oh my god,” he whispered, his voice laced with awe. “He’s in love with you.”

You looked up, confused but amused. “What are you talking about?”

“Look at him!” Lando exclaimed, setting the glass down and gesturing dramatically toward Leo. “He’s completely starstruck. Like, I’m his dad, but apparently, you’re Beyoncé or something.”

You laughed softly, glancing back down at Leo. “He’s a baby, Lando. Babies just... stare.”

“Not like this,” Lando countered, crouching beside the couch to get a closer look. He waved a hand in front of Leo’s face, trying to catch his attention, but Leo didn’t even blink. His gaze stayed fixed on you, unwavering.

“See?” Lando said, throwing his hands up. “I don’t exist. You’re his whole world.”

“Well,” you said with a sly smile, “can you blame him?”

Lando laughed, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Not even a little bit.”

Leo, as if sensing that his dad was stealing your attention, let out a little coo of protest. His tiny hand reached up again, this time gripping a strand of your hair.

“Oh, you’re possessive now, huh?” you teased, gently prying his fingers loose. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

Lando watched the exchange with a grin, shaking his head. “I don’t stand a chance, do I?”

Leo giggled at you, a sound so pure and joyful that both you and Lando couldn’t help but laugh along.

“Well,” Lando said, sitting down beside you, “if he’s this obsessed with you now, just wait until he starts talking. First word’s gonna be ‘Mama’ for sure.”

You shrugged, smirking. “I mean, I am pretty great.”

“Understatement of the year,” Lando muttered, leaning in to kiss your temple.

Leo babbled something incomprehensible, his voice full of excitement, as if trying to join the conversation. You looked back down at him, your heart swelling.

“Don’t worry, baby,” you said softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I love you, too.”

Leo responded with another gummy smile, and Lando groaned, clutching his chest.

“I’m gonna die,” he said dramatically. “He’s too cute. You’re too cute. I can’t handle this.”

You laughed, leaning into Lando’s side as the three of you basked in the warmth of the moment, your little family feeling more perfect than ever.

A few hours later and you were lounging on the couch, Leo nestled snugly against your chest. His tiny fingers clung to your shirt, his cheek resting against you as he babbled softly. You were exhausted but content, brushing a hand gently over his downy hair.

Lando appeared in the doorway, fresh from a shower, his hair damp and tousled. He grinned at the sight of the two of you, still where he had left you earlier to go running to get the workout his personal trainer required him. "Alright, mama. Your turn to rest," he said, striding over confidently. "Hand him over."

You chuckled softly, shifting slightly. "I don’t think he’s going to like that."

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lando said, reaching for Leo. “Come on, buddy. Let’s give Mama a break. You’ve hogged her long enough.”

But as soon as Lando’s hands gently tried to lift Leo away, your son let out a whiny little wail, clutching at your shirt like his life depended on it. His face scrunched up, and he made a series of dramatic, pitiful noises, burying his head against you.

Lando froze, blinking at Leo in disbelief. “Whoa, whoa, whoa- what’s this?”

You tried to hold back a laugh, rubbing Leo’s back soothingly. “I told you. He’s a mama’s boy right now.”

“Mama’s boy?” Lando repeated, his tone almost offended. “Leo, mate, you’re killing me here. What happened to our father-son bond? Remember? McLaren lullabies? Matching outfits? No?”

Leo let out another whimper and clung tighter, making it abundantly clear that no, he did not care about any of that right now.

“Unbelievable,” Lando muttered, dropping his hands to his hips. “You’re supposed to be my biggest fan, and you’re ditching me for her?”

“Can you blame him?” you teased, smiling up at Lando. “I mean, I did carry him for nine months. We’ve got history.”

Lando scoffed, sitting on the armrest of the couch, his arms crossed. “Alright, fine. I’ll just sit here and wait until he decides I’m worthy of his time again. No big deal.”

You laughed softly, adjusting Leo slightly so he could peek at his dad. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. He loves you. He’s just... clingy today.”

Lando leaned in closer, his face inches from Leo’s. “Hey, buddy,” he said in a mock serious tone. “You’re breaking my heart, you know that? At least give me a smile or something.”

Leo peeked at him, his little mouth forming an ‘O’ as if considering it, but then he tucked his face back into your neck with a happy sigh.

“Wow,” Lando said, throwing his hands up. “Rejected. Completely rejected. I’m never going to recover from this.”

You reached out with your free hand, tugging playfully at Lando’s arm. “Oh, stop. You’ll get your turn when he’s in a dad mood.”

“When’s that gonna be? Next year?” Lando quipped, though his grin gave away that he wasn’t really upset.

You tilted your head, resting it against the couch. “Maybe when he starts talking. He might surprise you and say ‘Dada’ first.”

Lando’s face lit up at the idea, his competitive streak kicking in. “Oh, he better say ‘Dada’ first. Otherwise, I’m taking him to every Grand Prix until he changes his mind.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him fondly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me,” he replied, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. Then, after a beat, he pressed a soft kiss to Leo’s, earning himself a tiny, curious glance.

“See, Leo?” Lando said, grinning at his son. “I’m not so bad. Maybe next time, you’ll pick Dad, huh?”

Leo cooed softly, his tiny hand reaching out toward Lando’s face as if to placate him, and Lando laughed.

“Alright,” he said, standing back up. “You win this round, little guy. But don’t get too comfortable. Dad’s coming for you.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to Leo’s head as he settled contentedly against you. “I think we’re both lucky to have you, Lando. Even if he’s playing favorites today.”

Lando shot you a cheeky grin. “Damn right you’re lucky. Just wait until tomorrow. I’ll bring out the big guns- he won’t be able to resist.”

“Big guns?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll see,” Lando said cryptically, heading toward the kitchen. “Just you wait, Mama’s boy.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head, as Leo cooed happily in your arms, blissfully unaware of the competition brewing between his parents.

—

The house was unusually quiet that evening, save for the faint hum of the baby monitor on the kitchen counter.

You were finishing up the dishes when you noticed Lando sitting on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. His hair was a mess from running his fingers through it, something he only did when he was stressed.

You dried your hands and walked over, sitting beside him.

Leo was already asleep in his crib, giving you both a rare moment of peace, but Lando’s usual lighthearted demeanor was absent.

"Hey," you said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. "What’s on your mind?"

He sighed heavily, sitting back and looking at you with tired eyes. "Season’s starting back up soon."

You nodded. "I know. It’s what you love, though. You’ve been itching to get back out there."

"Yeah, I have," he admitted, but his voice was far from excited. "It’s just... different this time."

You tilted your head, encouraging him to continue.

"I don’t want to miss anything," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Leo’s growing so fast already, and what if I miss his first word? Or the first time he crawls? What if he forgets me when I’m gone too much? He’s so little, and I just... I don’t want him to feel like I’m not around."

Your heart broke a little at his words.

Lando was always so confident, but being a dad had softened him in ways you didn’t expect.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "You’re not going to miss everything, Lando. We’re coming with you, remember?"

"I know," he said, wrapping an arm around you instinctively. "But it’s not the same. You’ll be in the hotel most of the time. I’ll be at the track all day. And then there’s the traveling, the media, the briefings... It’s not like I can just pop in whenever I want."

"You’re doing your best," you reassured him. "And that’s all that matters. Leo’s not going to forget you just because you’re working. He’s going to grow up knowing his dad is chasing his dreams."

"But he’s my dream too," Lando whispered, his voice cracking. "I love racing, but I love you and Leo more. And I don’t want either of you to feel like you’re second to anything."

You sat up and cupped his face in your hands, making him look at you. "Lando Norris, you are an amazing dad and an amazing partner. Racing doesn’t take away from that. If anything, it adds to it. You’re showing Leo what it means to work hard for something you’re passionate about. And no matter how busy things get, you always come back to us. That’s what he’ll remember."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as he let out another sigh. "You’re way too good at this pep talk thing, you know."

You smiled. "Comes with the territory. Now, instead of worrying, why don’t you focus on the things you can do? Like making sure you get as much time with Leo as possible before you leave for Bahrain."

Lando nodded, his resolve strengthening. "You’re right. I’ll make every second count."

"We’ll be cheering you on," you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Always."

"Love you," he murmured, pulling you into his arms.

"We love you too," you whispered back, knowing that no matter how challenging the season ahead would be, you’d face it together.

—

The door to the hotel room creaked open, and you looked up from the couch where you sat with Leo perched on your lap.

The tension in Lando’s shoulders was evident as he stepped inside, his eyes shadowed with the weight of a race that hadn’t gone his way.

His hair was still damp from a quick post-race shower at the track, hoodie lazily thrown on.

He dropped his bag by the door and leaned against the wall for a moment, rubbing a hand down his face. You could see the frustration in every line of his posture, and your heart ached for him.

“Hey,” you called softly, trying not to wake Leo, who was already babbling quietly as he played with your fingers.

Lando’s eyes found yours, and just like that, some of the tension began to melt away. His gaze shifted to Leo, whose bright aquamarine eyes lit up the moment he saw his dad. Tiny hands waved enthusiastically, and Lando couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey, mate,” he murmured, crossing the room to kneel beside you both. “You’ve been good for your mum?”

Leo giggled in response, his baby talk filling the room. Lando reached out to gently tickle his son’s belly, his earlier frustration slowly dissolving into soft chuckles as Leo squirmed and cooed.

“I missed you two,” Lando said quietly, his eyes meeting yours. He leaned forward to kiss your forehead, then pressed a soft kiss to Leo’s chubby cheek. “Needed this more than I thought.”

Leo’s babbling grew more excited, and he suddenly clapped his hands before blurting out, “Buh! Buh! Buh! Booooox!”

Both you and Lando froze for a second, staring at each other in disbelief.

“Did he just-”

“Did he just say box box box?” you finished, already starting to laugh.

Lando’s jaw dropped before he burst into a mix of laughter and disbelief. “No way. His first words are box box box! Are you kidding me?!”

You were laughing so hard tears were threatening to spill from your eyes. “Oh my God, Lando. All that time spent listening to the race engineers is paying off! He’s already a little racer!”

Lando gently scooped Leo up, holding him high in the air as the baby giggled uncontrollably.

“Leo, mate, you’ve got the timing of a legend! First words straight out of a pit wall broadcast. Unbelievable!”

Leo’s babbling continued, his gummy smile stretching wide as he seemed to revel in the attention.

Lando pressed his forehead to Leo’s, his voice filled with affection. “You’re perfect, you know that? Absolute perfection. Even if you’ve cursed me to never hear the end of this from Uncle Max.”

You leaned over to kiss Lando’s cheek, your laughter settling into a warm smile. “Well, at least we know he’s paying attention during the races.”

Lando turned to look at you, his eyes soft and full of love. “You two make everything better, you know that? Worst race of my life, and here I am, happier than ever because of this little guy and his genius first words.”

“Buh-buh-buh!” Leo squealed again, reaching out to grab Lando’s nose.

“Yeah, yeah, box box box, I hear you, mate,” Lando said, his voice thick with laughter and adoration.

—

The moment came out of nowhere, as so many milestones do.

You were finishing up your nighttime skincare routine while Lando sat on the floor, trying to coax Leo to take a step.

Leo stood wobbling on his chubby little legs, his hands stretched out in front of him for balance.

“Come on, mate,” Lando encouraged, holding his arms out. “One step. Just one! You’ve got this.”

You looked up, a soft smile playing on your lips. “He’s been teasing you with this for weeks, hasn’t he?”

“Don’t jinx it!” Lando shot back with a grin, his eyes glued to Leo.

Leo’s face was scrunched in determination, his tongue poking out as if it helped his balance. Then, with the tiniest of shuffles, he lifted one foot and took a step.

“YES!” Lando’s shout nearly startled the poor baby into toppling over, but Leo took another step toward his dad, and then another, his arms swinging wildly for balance.

You gasped, nearly dropping the serum you were holding. “Oh my God, he’s doing it!”

Leo stumbled into Lando’s arms, laughing triumphantly as his dad scooped him up and spun him around. “That’s my boy! First steps! Did you see that, babe? He’s a natural.”

You were on your feet in an instant, rushing over to join them. “I saw it! Our little walker!”

Leo’s giggles turned into a proud little babble as Lando kissed the top of his head, his own grin so wide it looked like it might split his face.

Over the next few days, Leo was unstoppable. His clumsy little walk turned into a full-on mission to copy everything you and Lando did. If Lando was stretching, Leo mimicked him, though his version mostly involved falling over. When you bent down to pick something up, Leo would squat and then sit on his bottom like it was the same thing.

“Look at him!” Lando said one afternoon, watching as Leo tried to copy his dad tying his sneakers. “He’s like a little shadow. A very uncoordinated, very adorable shadow.”

Leo looked up at his dad with wide eyes, then toddled over and wrapped his arms around Lando’s leg, babbling nonsense.

“Aw, buddy, you’re killing me here,” Lando said, scooping him up. “You’re too cute. I can’t handle it.”

—

The sound of the private jet’s engines starting up hummed softly beneath your feet as you held Leo in your arms, walking down the narrow aisle towards the seats.

You could feel his tiny hand gripping your finger as you set him down on his feet, his little body still a bit unsteady as he tried to mimic your movements.

It was one of those moments that felt like time slowed down, as Leo tried to take a few wobbly steps toward Lando, who was already settled in his seat, grinning widely at his son.

“Come on, little man,” Lando called out, his voice light with amusement. “You can do it. Show mama how it’s done.”

You smiled at him, your heart swelling as you watched Leo try to imitate Lando’s movements, his knees wobbling slightly as he took another hesitant step forward.

The jet's gentle swaying seemed to make it harder, but Leo was determined. With every step he took, his little face lit up with the biggest grin, his wide eyes sparkling like he was proud of himself for trying.

“You’re a natural, Leo,” you said softly, helping him balance with your hand on his back. “Just like your dad.”

Leo looked up at you then, his smile widening before he reached for you.

He babbled excitedly, his voice higher-pitched and full of joy, and you laughed as you scooped him up, feeling his small arms wrap around your neck in a tight hug.

He was practically vibrating with happiness. You couldn’t help but melt into the feeling, his love so pure and contagious that it left you breathless.

“He really loves you,” Lando said with a grin, watching as Leo snuggled into your arms. “I think you might be his favorite.”

“Of course, I am,” you teased, pressing a kiss to Leo’s cheek. “He knows who takes care of him when he needs snacks, cuddles, and all the kisses.”

Leo giggled, his baby talk coming out in a string of adorable babbles as he snuggled closer to you. “Mama!” he squealed, his little voice bouncing off the walls of the plane, and you couldn’t help but smile in return.

“That’s right, buddy,” you whispered, looking at Lando with a playful smirk. “Mama’s got you.”

Lando laughed softly, clearly charmed by the scene.

You gently bounced Leo on your hip as you made your way to the seats. “It’s alright, babe. You’re still my number one, even if Leo’s stealing all the attention.”

Leo, sensing that he was the center of it all, let out a cheerful little giggle, reaching for Lando as if asking for his dad to hold him too.

“Okay, okay,” Lando laughed, scooting over and extending his arms. “You’ve made your point, little man.”

You handed Leo to Lando, watching as the two of them shared a moment. Leo rested his tiny head against his dad’s chest as Lando sat back in his seat, humming a soft tune to calm him down.

—

When Leo was still barely a year old, you and Lando found yourselves having the same conversation over and over.

You didn’t know if Leo would end up following in Lando’s footsteps or if he’d develop his own passions, but you both agreed that it was important to plan for his future- just in case.

Sitting together in the living room, watching Leo take wobbly steps across the floor, Lando turned to you with a smile. “I know we’re still a long way off, but... have you thought about what kind of school we want for Leo?”

You shrugged, absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair from Leo’s forehead.

“It’s hard to say, isn’t it? He’s barely one, but I’ve been thinking about it too. I guess we can’t decide now, but I think it’s smart to start planning. I mean, who knows what his interests will be?”

Lando nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. He might not be into racing, or even sports. But I can’t help but think about the possibility of him wanting to do something like I did. I don’t want to push him, but...” His voice trailed off as he watched Leo take another shaky step.

“I know,” you said softly, smiling as Leo giggled and reached for you. “It’s hard not to think about it. I just want him to have the freedom to choose what he loves, even if that’s not racing.”

Lando’s expression softened. “Of course. But what if he does? I want to make sure he has options, you know? Like, if he’s into it, I’d love for him to have that foundation. But if he’s not... then I don’t want him to feel forced into it.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, knowing how much racing meant to him. “I get it. It’s not just about racing, though. It’s about having choices. I think we should focus on giving him a well-rounded education, one that could adapt to whatever he wants to do. But I also think it’s important to keep in mind how we’ll handle it if he does decide to race, just in case.”

Lando sighed, watching Leo playfully crawl towards his toy car. “Yeah. Maybe we should start looking into schools that would allow for flexibility. That way, if he does want to race, it won’t interfere too much with his education.”

“Yeah,” you said, watching Leo’s face light up as he grabbed his toy and started pushing it across the floor. “And if he doesn’t want to race, we’ll make sure he has every opportunity to explore whatever else he’s passionate about.”

Lando grinned. “Whatever he ends up doing, I’ll be proud. Just... as long as he doesn’t bring me another toy car to fix. That’s my job.”

You laughed, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “I think he might just follow in your footsteps on that one.”

“Maybe. But for now, we’ve got plenty of time to figure it out.” Lando took your hand and squeezed it.

—

As you stepped into the paddock, Leo securely tucked in Lando’s arms, you couldn’t help but notice how everyone’s attention turned to your little boy.

His bright orange McLaren headphones looked comically large on his head, his curls bouncing with every slight movement.

Despite the overwhelming sights and sounds, Leo’s aquamarine eyes darted around, wide with curiosity.

“Alright, little man,” Lando murmured, adjusting Leo’s jacket, complete with a tiny McLaren logo stitched on the chest. “This is where Dad works. Cool, right? Your dad’s a bit of a big deal here.”

You smirked as you walked beside them. “He’s modest too. Make sure you learn that, Leo.”

Lando turned to you, raising a brow. “What can I say? He should know the truth.” Then, looking at Leo, he grinned. “We’ll save the really cool stuff for when you can talk.”

One of the engineers wandered over, grinning. “Well, well, if it isn’t our new recruit. Welcome, Leo. Hope you’re ready to carry the team.”

Leo giggled at the commotion, clumsily reaching out toward the engineer’s shiny name badge.

“Watch out,” you warned, leaning away. “If it’s shiny, he’s going to grab it.”

“Just like his dad and a trophy,” the engineer quipped, dodging Leo’s little hands.

Leo’s delighted squeals made the whole team stop and stare for a moment, their smiles softening as he wriggled excitedly, his tiny hands grabbing at the air as if trying to reach for the brightly colored McLaren car parked nearby.

One of the mechanics leaned in with a smile, handing Leo a miniature wrench.

“For the next pit stop,” the mechanic joked. “Gotta train ‘em young!”

Leo grabbed the wrench with a look of awe, his gummy smile lighting up the entire garage.

“Careful,” Lando said, laughing. “You give him that, and he’s going to think he’s part of the crew.”

“Isn’t he already?” the team’s PR manager chimed in, snapping a photo of Lando and Leo. “This might be our cutest team member yet.”

“I’m telling you,” Lando said, looking around. “This kid’s already got star power. I give it, what, two years before Zak offers him a contract?”

“Let’s aim for potty training first,” you teased, running a hand through Leo’s curls. “Then he can talk strategy.”

Zak wandered over at that moment, his gaze flicking from Leo to Lando. “He’s stealing the show already, isn’t he?”

“Obviously,” Lando said, grinning. “Look at him! He’s got the McLaren spirit.”

Leo babbled loudly, throwing his arms in the air as if he were agreeing. Everyone laughed, and Lando looked at you, his expression softening for just a moment.

“You sure he’s not overwhelmed?” he asked quietly, his voice just for you.

You smiled, resting a hand on his arm. “He’s fine. He’s curious, just like someone else I know.”

Leo, now grabbing at the zipper on Lando’s race suit, interrupted the moment with a loud, joyful squeal.

“Alright, alright,” Lando said, laughing as he adjusted Leo. “You’re the boss, mate.”

After Lando handed Leo back to you, his bright orange headphones still perched comically on his tiny head, he knelt to Leo’s level one last time before heading to the car.

“Alright, buddy,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to Leo’s curls. “Daddy’s going to go really fast now, okay? Cheer for me.”

Leo babbled something incomprehensible, his little hands reaching out to pat Lando’s face. Lando chuckled, leaning into the touch as if it were the best encouragement he could get.

“See? He already knows I’m winning,” Lando joked, standing and giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. “Take care of my little number one fan.”

“We’ll be cheering from the best seats in the house,” you assured him, adjusting Leo on your hip. “Go make us proud.”

As Lando disappeared into the chaos of the garage, you carried Leo to the viewing area, a private box where you could watch the race without overwhelming him. The hum of engines roaring to life filled the air, and Leo’s eyes grew impossibly wide at the sight of the cars pulling out onto the track.

“Look, Leo,” you cooed, pointing toward the screen showing Lando’s car. “There’s Daddy. See the orange car? That’s him.”

Leo squirmed excitedly in your arms, babbling in response as if he understood. His tiny fists waved in the air, his gaze locked on the screen.

As the race began, you couldn’t help but glance between the screen and your son. His fascination was evident, his aquamarine eyes following the cars as they sped around the track.

Occasionally, he’d let out a squeal, clapping his hands together, and it made your heart swell.

“Is Daddy fast?” you asked playfully.

Leo responded with a delighted giggle, his curls bouncing as he nodded. Whether it was intentional or just random excitement, you weren’t sure, but it made you laugh anyway.

When Lando pulled off a daring overtake, you clapped softly, careful not to startle Leo. “See that, little man? That’s Daddy being awesome.”

Leo responded by slapping his chubby hands against your chest and squealing, his energy contagious.

By the time the race ended, Lando had finished in a respectable position—maybe not a podium, but enough to make you proud. As he approached the garage for post-race celebrations and interviews, you and Leo made your way down to meet him.

The moment Lando stepped into view, sweaty and slightly disheveled but glowing with the post-race adrenaline, Leo practically launched himself toward him, wiggling in your arms and reaching out.

“Alright, alright, mate!” Lando said, laughing as he took Leo from you, holding him close. “You watched me, huh? Did you see how cool I was?”

Leo responded with a string of babbles, his hands patting Lando’s cheeks and tugging at his race suit zipper again.

“He was your biggest fan,” you said, smiling at the sight of the two of them.

“Best fan I’ll ever have,” Lando said, pressing a kiss to Leo’s forehead before looking at you. “And my second best fan is pretty great, too.”

“Oh, I’m second now?” you teased, arching a brow.

“Technically tied,” Lando corrected with a grin, leaning in to kiss you briefly. “Best race ever. Thanks to you two.”

—

It was a sunny afternoon when Adam and Cisca arrived for their visit, the house buzzing with excitement as Leo toddled around, his tiny feet barely keeping up with his boundless energy.

You had been waiting for this moment, knowing how much both Lando’s parents were eager to hear their grandson say his first words to them.

“Cisca, Adam, we’ve been working on something special with Leo,” you said, a playful grin on your face. “I think he’s finally ready to impress you both.”

Cisca, who was sitting on the couch with Adam, leaned forward eagerly. “Oh, don’t tease us. What’s he going to do?”

You gave a small nod toward Leo, who was currently playing with his favorite toy car, completely oblivious to the attention he was about to receive.

Lando was beside him, giving a little encouragement.

“Leo,” Lando said softly, “can you say ‘Grandma’?”

For a moment, Leo just looked up at him, his big aquamarine eyes blinking as if he was deciding whether to humor his dad. Then, in a clear, albeit babyish voice, he uttered, “G-g-gra-ma!”

The room fell silent for a split second, before Cisca gasped and clapped her hands.

“He said it! He really said it!” Her eyes were wide with excitement, and she immediately reached for Leo, pulling him into her arms as she showered him with kisses.

Adam laughed, his arms crossed as he watched Cisca fawn over Leo. “Well, it looks like we have a new favorite around here.”

Cisca, still holding Leo, smiled warmly. “He’s a natural,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Lando grinned, clearly proud, but there was a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Alright, buddy. Let’s see if you can do ‘Grandpa’ now.”

Leo’s face lit up at the challenge, and he looked up at Lando with a wide grin. “G-g-pa!” he said, a little clearer this time, as though he’d been practicing in secret.

Cisca and Adam both looked at each other in amazement before bursting into laughter. “He did it!”

You couldn’t help but smile, watching your son, so small yet already full of surprises.

Lando, beaming, scooped Leo into his arms, lifting him high in the air. “Good job, mate! You’re already a hit with the grandparents.”

As you all laughed and celebrated, you felt a warm sense of joy, knowing that these small moments were just the beginning.

Leo was growing up so quickly, and every new word was another step toward the amazing little person he was becoming.

And if there was any doubt that he was Lando’s son, it was quickly erased with that second, clearer “Grandpa.”

—

It was Lando’s home race, and the atmosphere was electric. The streets around the circuit buzzed with excitement as fans poured in to cheer on their favorite driver.

You, Lando, and Leo were all geared up for a day of racing, but there was an undeniable sense of extra energy in the air today.

It was Lando's moment to shine in front of his hometown crowd.

You had decided to bring Leo along for his first true race day experience, and the little one couldn’t contain his excitement.

He had been bouncing around the house all morning, his energy matching the anticipation in the air

“Ready for the madness?” Lando asked, his fingers tapping on the wheel as he drove toward the circuit.

“Is there ever a dull moment at one of your races?” you teased, glancing at Leo, who was already staring out the window, wide-eyed at the massive crowds beginning to form outside.

“Look, Daddy!” Leo exclaimed, his voice full of wonder. “People!”

Lando chuckled, reaching over to ruffle Leo’s hair. “Yeah, buddy, those people are here to watch a race. They love the sport almost as much as we do.”

Lando slowed a little to let Leo get a better look at the fans, many of whom had spotted him by now.

A small wave of recognition rippled through the crowd, and people began holding up signs, taking photos, and cheering even louder.

Lando chuckled, glancing at Leo. “Look at him, he’s already soaking it all in. He’s going to be waving at people the whole time.”

Sure enough, as you drove past the crowds lining the track, Leo pressed his face against the window and started waving enthusiastically at the fans.

“Hi! Hi, people!” he called out, his little arm flailing in the air like he was trying to reach everyone at once.

Lando laughed, shaking his head fondly. “Just like me when I was his age, huh?”

You smiled, watching Leo’s excitement grow as the car neared the grid.

“He’s got your energy, that’s for sure,” you agreed, though Leo’s cheeky smile had hints of you, too.

Leo, still oblivious to the significance of the day, continued to wave back happily, as if the attention was the most natural thing in the world.

The moment was adorable, and it didn’t take long for the whole world to start catching on.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Curiosity piqued, you pulled it out quickly, only to be greeted with a flood of notifications.

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the messages from friends and family, all the while still hearing Leo’s happy babbling in the back seat.

The trending hashtag was unmistakable: #LeoNorrisOnTheGrid.

It seemed that most fans, spotting Leo, immediately started recording, posting videos of the excited toddler waving at everyone. Within minutes, the clips had gone viral.

On Twitter, hashtags like #LeoNorris and #MiniLando had started trending in minutes.

Fans were going crazy over how much Leo looked like his father, and how adorable he was interacting with the crowd. Some even joked about how Leo was stealing the spotlight from Lando.

"I swear, this kid's got his own fan club already," you said, laughing as you scrolled through the posts and videos that were rapidly gaining likes and retweets.

Lando raised an eyebrow, glancing at the screen before shaking his head, amused. “Well, I’m not surprised. He’s got that Norris charm.”

As you all made your way to the grid, the excitement continued to build. Leo, blissfully unaware of the frenzy he’d caused online, continued to wave at the fans, his little face lit up with pure joy. You leaned over to Lando, whispering, “He’s definitely got your spirit, that’s for sure.”

“Guess he’s a natural,” Lando said with a grin, his tone light but his pride obvious. “But I’m not sure how I feel about all those people already talking about him taking my seat one day.”

You laughed, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Don’t worry, Lando. He’s still got a lot of growing to do before that happens.”

Leo’s excited voice interrupted the moment. “Daddy race now! Go, go, go!” He was bouncing in his seat, eager for his dad to get to the track.

As you made your way toward the grid, Lando leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“Thanks for being here with me today,” he murmured, squeezing your hand. “It means the world to have you both here, especially today.”

With Leo tugging on his hand, eager to explore, you smiled, feeling the love and joy that filled the air.

“We wouldn’t be anywhere else,” you replied, knowing that this day, this moment, was something you’d all treasure forever.

[summ3rhead]

https://twitter.com/terrornothorror/status/1679874959953330177?s=46

Just had to post it bcos I’ve been wailing about this for almost 24 hours….

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Pay to Play

The last thing I remember is a van pulling up to the sidewalk and two men grabbing me. I vaguely recall a syringe going into my arm and the pain of an injection but that’s all that I can remember of when I wake up. I’m in a dark room, tied to a chair, and gagged. There are several other girls in the room as well, all tied and gagged just like I am. The fear is palpable as we look between ourselves. Some are crying and most of us are squirming and struggling to no avail.

Suddenly, the door to the room we’re in swings open and several men walk in. No one says a word as the men go towards the girl closest to the door and pick her up, chair included. They leave with her, just as suddenly as they arrived, leaving the rest of us in stunned silence.

I feel tears well up in my eyes, the fear and confusion becoming too much for me to process. One of the girls screams behind her gag and another one joins her. A few more join in but no one beyond the door seems to notice and eventually, we all quiet again, each of us trying to cope in our own ways.

An unknown amount of time passes and suddenly the doors slam open again. The men return but there is no sign of the first girl. They head towards the second girl and grab her the same way, ignoring her wails from behind the gag and her desperate struggling against her bonds. They leave with her, just like before.

It becomes a pattern. The men come and take the next girl in line every so often and none of us know what to expect or how to stop it. Soon, I’m up next. It’s been so long since I woke up that I’ve stopped crying already. My arms are sore from being tied up and my legs are numb from sitting.

The doors slam open again and I’m carried away. I’m brought to a room surrounded by lights, the sudden brightness making me squint and blink. When my vision focuses again, I realize the men are gone and I’m alone. I’m surrounded by cameras, and there’s a large screen in front of me playing a live feed of the room, and I see myself. My hair is tangled, my eyes are red from crying, and I look terrified. What’s next to the footage is what makes my blood run cold. It’s a chat box, and I can see the comments coming in. Comments about how I look, about how excited viewers are for the “show,” and how much they think I’m worth. I realize in that moment that I’m being livestreamed and about to be sold off to the highest bidder.

A door opens and a man walks in. He’s wearing a mask that covers most of his face and he has on a microphone that I can only assume let’s him talk to the stream’s viewers.

“Welcome! Our next lovely girl is here with us now. You all know the rules, if you win the auction, you must transfer funds immediately and she will be prepared for shipment or pick-up, depending on your preference. Let’s begin.”

He walks toward me, and I whimper behind the gag, terrified of what’s to come. He pulls out a pair of scissors, and swiftly cuts away at my clothes, pulling them off my naked body and I’m crying now. I can see myself on the screen, my sobs making my body shake as I try my best to curl into myself.

The comments start to flood into the chat box now, people discussing my body, my tits, my pussy. I see bids start to come in too, and part of me is shocked to see the amount of money these people are throwing out.

The man comes back into my view and he’s holding a vibrator in his hand. I wail behind the gag, shaking my head and struggling uselessly in my bonds. He isn’t deterred and I watch as he clicks it on. I’m straining to close my legs but the ropes are too tight and chair too unyielding. He brings the vibrator between my legs and I wail when I feel it touch my clit. He doesn’t give me time to adjust, he presses the vibrating head directly onto my clit and holds it there, letting the vibrations batter me.

I scream behind the gag as I feel the sensation overwhelm me. At first, the fear dampened any pleasure but as the seconds dragged on and the vibrator stayed pressed up against my most delicate area, I could feel my body reacting. Waves of stimulation crash over me and I can feel the first inklings of an orgasm starting to build. The man keeps the horrible vibrator on my pulsing clit and my tears are now in response to the unbearable pleasure that I never wanted, and certainly not like this.

The vibrator pushes my body closer and closer to a wrecking orgasm, and I can’t do anything other than feel it happen. I arch my back and squirm as much as I can when the incomprehensible pleasure crescendos and I shatter. I can feel my pussy clenching around nothing and gushing out my release, my clit pulsing in time to my heartbeat, and my mind fading to a haze of pleasure and pain as the vibrator continues to ravage me.

“Orgasm in one minute and 37 seconds, and she’s a squirter,” the man announces matter-of-factly. “Let’s see how hard we can push her.”

I look up from tear-blurred eyes, seeing the comments flood in on the chat box on screen. I’ve always been sensitive post-orgasm and the fact that the man hasn’t pulled away the vibrator is pushing me into a painful overstimulation that’s making my stomach clench in fear. He reaches down with his free hand and maneuvering around the vibrator to pull back the soft skin that normally surrounds my clit, protecting it. My eyes widen and I let out a guttural scream behind the gag as the overwhelming, horrible vibrator now decimates my clit with nothing to soften the nerve-fraying stimulation.

I feel my eyes roll up into my head and my body is thrown into a second orgasm with no preparation. Just pure, unstoppable pleasure that burns every single nerve in my body. I can’t even breathe or scream or cry as my entire being is locked in a soul-shattering explosion that seems to go on forever.

I have no idea how much time passes or how many orgasms that terrible pleasure is able to tear from my body before the vibrator finally moves away. I’m shaking, crying, gasping for air and my clit is burning and twitching from the continued stimulation.

When I finally gather myself enough to open my eyes and see the on-screen chat box, I feel my heart stutter when I read some of the things people are saying.

“Fuck, she’s hot like that, I wonder if she’d survive a day strapped to a fucking machine.”

“I want to string her up and see how good of a whipping she could handle before she begs.”

“Her little clitty looks perfect for a piercing, and I could run electricity through it and really make her scream and cum.”

That last one makes me whimper and I pull my attention away from the screen, hoping that this nightmare is almost over.

“Now for a change of pace,” the man says from across the room. My eyes dart over to him and see that the men who’d brought me here are back again, rolling in a different chair, this one built like a gynecologist’s exam table with stirrups. I shake slightly in fear as they approach me and untie me before manhandling me into the exam chair. I’m too weak to even resist as they strap my body down, my feet going into the stirrups and my legs, arms, and body immobilized with straps.

The men leave and I look up at the livestream of myself, seeing how fear has made my eyes wide with gruesome anticipation. I can see clearly in the video, my clit looking so red and angry while my pussy still drips from the torment of pleasure they’d subjected me to moments before. I watch as the masked man approaches me, wheeling over a tray containing more horrible toys and devices.

He pulls a metal speculum off the tray and comes to stand before me. I’m shaking with terror, desperately trying to beg from behind the gag. He’s uncaring as he slides the device against my pussy, pushing the cold, hard metal inside of me. My back arches as my pussy fills and I whine, wishing that I didn’t find this violation pleasurable.

The man starts to crank the handle of the device, the motion forcing the speculum to open me up. I can’t help but moan, feeling an unbearable fullness start to build as the device pushes my pussy wide open. Eventually, he stops and takes a step back.

I watch through the livestream as he grabs a long, thin wand from the tray and comes back. I can feel my pussy pulsing around the speculum holding me open, and I know there’s nothing I can do to prevent whatever deranged thing he plans on doing next.

“Let’s see how she reacts to some internal stimulation.”

Without any other warning, the man slides the thin wand into me and presses a button that makes it start emitting a low pulsing vibration. He brushes against the walls of my pussy and I shake at the onslaught of pleasure. The speculum gives him easy, perfect access and the thin wand means he has every bit of precision at his disposal as he targets my most vulnerable places.

I choke on a gasp when he finds my g-spot and presses into it with heart-stopping accuracy. I feel my toes curl and my eyes roll to the back of my head as painful, unbearable pleasure overwhelms me. He turns up the wand to an unimaginable intensity and drives it into the tenderness of my pussy. I cum immediately. My pussy gushes and my juices flood out of me as the pleasure ravages my body with no mercy.

Just like with my clit, the man doesn’t let up. I’m locked in this impossible pleasure and overstimulation as my vision goes white and my body feels ripped to shreds by every orgasm that pours out of me.

When he finally stops, I don’t even feel human anymore. My mind is empty, there is absolutely nothing left other than the pure pleasure that laid waste to my entire being. I’m vaguely aware of the man announcing final call for bids but I’m too incoherent to really register what is going on around me. Suddenly, I feel a prick on my arm and slowly turn my head to watch a syringe pull out of my arm. My head spins and I feel sleep encroaching on my mind.

Just before my darkness overwhelms my vision and I sink into unconsciousness, I catch a glance of the screen and see how much money was spent on me. There’s a muted sense of astonishment. It’s more money than I could even fathom, more than I could make in a lifetime. And someone just spent it on me, in exchange for my complete ownership.

[msfantasy-anime]

No way! Luffy has a Wife?!

Monkey D. Luffy x Wife!Reader

Summary: an amalgamation of many requests on others finding out Luffy is married.

A/n: Thanks @matronofthevoid for the prompt of Boa Hancock and to the other anonymous DM’s requesting others

Part VII

After a few weeks of Monkey Y/n’s Wanted posters circulating, the world government has issued a retraction after being unable to locate the marriage certificate of Luffy and Y/n.

The marines have since issued new Wanted posters, removing the family name ‘Monkey’ followed by the following description.

‘Y/n, Wanted Dead or Alive for 200 million berries after assaulting a marine officer for insulting childhood friend Monkey D. Luffy. The bounty has been increased as Y/n is confirmed to be an official member of the strawhat pirates after eye-witness testify Y/n claiming allegiance to the strawhat captain in wholecake Island. The World Government would also like to retract any claims or statements of the marriage between the pair due to lack of evidence to support claim.’

Whilst it true the new posters and description have been issued- not everyone has received the new news.

Shanks - Receiving the original poster

“Hey captain! Check this out!” Yassop howls in laughter with Lucky Roux, throwing a newly issued bounty down into their captains lap.

Wanted Dead or Alive. Monkey. Y/n. 100m berries.

Shanks eyes widen slightly at the name.

“Luffy’s a grown man now, wife and all…” Shanks mutters, his eyes shining with pride before quickly faltering to horror. “That little twerp got married and didn’t even invite me?! Can you believe that?!”

Silvers Rayleigh - Receiving the original poster

Shakuyaku smirks down at the news paper below her, taking a good long drag from the cigarette sitting loosely between her fingers.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Rayleigh steals a glance at the papers. “Well would you look at that… the boys not completely hopeless after all.”

Boa Hancock - Receives the new posters

As all of the Kuja warriors suspected. Their beautiful loving Empress has been bedridden for weeks.

The wanted poster…

The description of Luffy’s marital status…

It was all far too much for the tender hearted empress.

But as soon as Gloriosa received the newest issue, she figuratively bolted to the empresses bed chamber. “I’ve come bearing great news!” Gloriosa announces, pulling the blanket off of the rotting figure that is Boa Hancock.

He matted hair remains tangled, her swollen eyes pinching together tighter at the exposure of light. “Leave at once you old hag! Leave me to my suffering!” Hancock wails, pulling weakly at the bedcovers.

“He isn’t married!” Gloriosa announces as Hancock sits up rapidly. “Luffy! He isn’t married- it was just a false report! They’re only childhood friends!” The angelic expression that follow was so blindingly beautiful, Gloriosa’s memory lapsed at the beauty that is her Empress.

“Luffy my love! I knew it! You shall be mine! No woman is qualified for his affections!” Hancock swoons.

Monkey D. Garp - Receives the new poster

“See Koby?! I knew it wasn’t true!” Helmeppo scrutinises the posters hung up on the wall.

‘Y/n Wanted Dead or Alive’

Koby shrugs indifferently. Whilst it might be true Luffy and Y/n aren’t married, is it really so crazy to believe Luffy has romantic interests? Well according to Helmeppo, such a statement is ridiculous.

“What are you two bickering about now?” Garp grumbles, shoving his hand into the bucket of popcorn and into his mouth by the fist fulls.

“Sir- you would know more than that Luffy couldn’t possibly be married.” Helmeppo guestures to Y/n’s new poster.

There was a moment of silence before Garp dropped his bucket of popcorn to the floor, snatching the poster as his eyes widen in horror. “Huh?! So that little brat went and became a pirate after all?! Does anyone listen to me?! First Ace, then my idiot grandson and now my angel?!” Storming to his desk, Garp continues to mutter to himself under his breath, riffling through the papers until he is able to extract a report pertaining to your bounty from the pile.

You were Garp’s one saving grace.

The one and only rambunctious child that didn’t go over to the dark side, but based off the report- it’s still his idiot grandsons fault.

If he didn’t become a pirate then you wouldn’t have gained a wanted poster defending his honour like the noble angel you are.

“Sir - you would know more than anyone. Is Luffy and Y/n married or not?” Koby asks, only for Garps eyes to remain dark and downcast in angst.

“Unofficially.” He mutters only for Helmeppo to cringe at the confirmation.

“So it’s true then?! Strawhat really does have a wife?!” Helmeppo shouts in horror, needing desperately for Garp to tell him the honest truth.

“Huh?” Garp picks his nose mindlessly as he thinks back. “That idiot has been claiming they’ve been married for years… guess he just finally wore her down.”

Bartolomeo - Receives the new poster

“And Y/n defended Sir Luffy by knocking that filthy marine out in one hard punch!” Bartolomeo praises, dabbing a moist tissue to his eyes. “It’s just so beautiful! Sir Luffy deserves nothing less than a devoted wife to defend his honour.” Bartolomeo throws himself onto the floor as he continues to sob hysterically. “And - to think- they’re childhood friends! Truely a romantic story for the ages!”

The crew begin to cry in unison. “How can people deny their marriage?!” Some sobbing crewman questions, blowing his nose into his own shirt.

“They don’t need no stink’in piece of paper! We will help sir Luffy by spreading their grand love story far and wide for all to hear!”

Y/n - Receives the new poster

“Hey have you guys seen Y/n?” Luffy questions, scratching his head absentmindedly.

Zoro points lazily towards the head of the Thousand Sunny where you appear to be sitting glumly. You begin to make the face you always do when you are sad.

“I’m sorry Luffy- I didn’t mean to upset her.” Chopper mutters sadly. But Zoro only drops his heavy hand on Choppers head. “Y/n’s bounty went up, I went to show her, but then she got really upset.“ Chopper holds up the newly issued Wanted poster of Y/n.

“Hey it’s not your fault, all you did was show her the new poster.” Zoro reassures but Choppers shoulders sink further.

Luffy snatches Nami’s pen from her hand and begins to scribble on the Wanted poster.

“Luffy! What the hell-“ Luffy tosses the pen back on the table and stalks back off towards his gloomy wife.

“Oi! Have you seen your new wanted poster? Looks like your bounty went up since you’re officially in my crew now.” Luffy announces ecstatically, shoving the wrinkly paper into your hands.

You begin to slouch into yourself. You knew it was silly but it was heart wrenching to finally have a family name only of it to be taken at a moments notice. ‘Monkey’ was not a last name you even earnt. But even so, it was nice to feeling like you belonged somewhere.

“Yeah, what about it?“ Your voice shrivels up on the spot.

Looking down at the wanted poster you see your name haphazardly scribbled ‘Monkey Y/n’

Tears threatened to well-up. Without you even admitting out loud - Luffy somehow knew exactly what upset you and how to fix it. “You’re so dumb sometimes ya’know?” Luffy states rhetorically, which only makes you begin to boom with laughter. “How many more times do I have to remind you? You’re my wife. You don’t need some piece of paper to give you a last name. Because I already gave you my last name.” You begin to grin at your sweet loveable doofus. “But if you need a piece of paper, then take that. I wrote it myself and everything- Kay?” He asks only for you to spring on top of Luffy, pulling him into a lethal tight hug.

[vandersbf]

Fluffvember 15

In the firelight/candlelight // “I love you”

Tags: gn reader, reader x vander, fluff, parenting

warnings: vi has a nightmare and wakes up crying, no details about the nightmare are given.

author’s note: done with exams, which means more writing time! I’ve never shared my writing online before so i was nervy but yall have been amazing to me, thank you. :)

You wake up to the sound of crying. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.” A hand is placed on your shoulder, the bed creaking as you come to. You sit up slowly, watching him grapple with a shirt, his back turned. The room is dark, and you narrow your eyes as he opens the door, letting in a crack of light. After a moment, you straighten up fully, forcing yourself to step out of bed and follow. 

Soft whispers join the crying, which has started to fade into hiccups as you near the kids’ room. The door is open an inch, and you near the frame slowly, your footsteps light on the cold floor. Vander is kneeling on the floor next to Violet’s bed, cradling her gently while she cries on his shoulder. Across the room, Powder sits with her feet tucked under her, watching her older sister with a nervous expression. She spots you, shrinking a little, and you nod towards her, reaching out an arm. She doesn’t hesitate to silently dart out of bed and to your side, and you wrap an arm around her head, softly carding your fingers through her hair. You reach down to scoop her up, turning to carry her out from the doorway and to the couch in the communal room outside. You make sure to gently shut the door behind you, muffling the noises of her big sister’s wails. 

You plop down on the couch together, and Powder burrows into your chest. “There you go.” You reach for the throw blanket, draping it over her small frame. “S alright, dear.” You whisper, tucking the coarse blanket around her. “She’ll be fine soon. Everyone has bad dreams.”

Powder falls back asleep in no time, conked out in your lap. Soon enough, Violet’s cries fade to sniffles, and then stop. A moment later, Vander steps out of the room, and you lift your head from where you’d been resting. 

“Told you not to worry ‘bout it.” He says when he sees you holding Powder.

”And I didn’t.” You keep running your hand over Powder’s back, feather light. “No worries here.” You take a deep breath before standing up slowly, making sure not to disturb the sleeping girl. You carry her back to bed and set her down, pulling the blankets back up and tucking in a stuffed animal next to her while Vander watches.

It’s only after the door is shut behind you again that he speaks. “Still. You don’t have to do all this.”

”I know what I’m signing up for, Vander.” You insist. “I have just as much of a responsibility of love to them as I do to you.”

It takes him a moment, but he cracks. “…Thank you, love.” He reaches out and touches the side of your face. “You’re smarter than I’ll ever hope to be.” He whispers, stepping forward and lining up your foreheads, so you can feel his warm skin against you. “I love you.”

”I love you too.” You reply, and it feels natural. “Carry me to bed?” You whisper, and his arms wrap around your sides, scooping you up and into the air, back towards his bedroom.

[ajortga]

cute and absolute

pairing: jenna ortega x actress!fem reader

word count: 1.8k+

summary: it doesn't go unnoticed that you are one of the only people that jenna lets her walls down with.

based off request!

-

Where Jenna only accepts r's touch ??? Tyy

-🥝

-

Jenna is squirming in the car, screaming at her friend to drive faster so she can eat. 

“I’ve been on set since 6 fucking AM! It’s been 10 hours and I’m hungry! I skipped breakfast for this damn shit! What the hell do you mean you can’t get a burrito right now? All I want is a damn burrito and you’re telling me that we have to pick up Y/N, our friend, and first buy the book you wanted because it’s closer? CLOSER?” She screams, gripping her knuckles that were already white enough.

Jacob, one of Jenna’s friends laughs hard, a little threatened but not enough to be stopped. “It’ll only take 15 minutes at most! It’s more convenient, the bookstore is along the way and closer to our location, then we can just buy any burrito you want aft-” 

“CLOSER? YOU KNOW WHAT’S CLOSER?” Jenna throws her arms up in dramatic effect, huffing, “Me going insane! My sanity is at 10% right now, and if I don’t get my burrito this instant, I’m going to crash this car and fucking run to the nearest place that has a burrito. DON’T touch me!” She yells, smacking her friend's arm away because she cannot think properly at this moment.

“I’m STARVING, and I’m a woman who needs food to survive in this film ECONOMY! Can’t you drive any faster?-"

Jenna suddenly hears your voice outside from the slightly opened car window. She peeks her eyes out, her hands holding the glass. She suddenly sees you, looking sweet, happy, and perfectly sane as you come out of your driveway. “Hi, Jenna!” You exclaim, completely unaware that she was just ballistic for a burrito 5 seconds ago.

Her frustrated demeanor melts off suddenly, a goofy grin on her face as she sees just how happy you are. She brings her hand up, waving. “Hi!”

She just forgot how hungry she was and the person she just was less than a minute ago. Why was she so upset that she had to wait longer so Jacob could pick you up? She stopped feeling the need to bang her head on the nearest wall. 

“Jacob was telling me that you had a long time on set, something about how I had to save him because you were going crazy, so I got you some snacks.” You pull out a bag filled with goodies from your pantry.

The man that was driving stuttered as Jenna slowly turned to him, “I did not say it like that.”

“Oh yeah?” You ask, grabbing your phone and swiping and squinting. “It says here, “Please save me from this woman, she’s acting like a toddler that just shit her pants. SOS, crying crying emoji..” Um, oh and here. “This girl is so dramatic, complaining about not getting her burrito, she's wailing in the back seat. Please save her.” Don’t lie to me.” You state with a grin as Jenna munches on chips.

He rolls his eyes, grumbling. 

Jenna interrupts, “Okay, Jacob, you traitor.”

“You cannot be talking, slapping my arm away when I try to calm you down but Y/N being some sort of angel and making you all cuddly.”

The fuming brunette slowly turns back to normal as you slither your arm around hers, laying your head on her shoulder. “Glad to know you love me. How was filming without me?”

Jenna sniffs, letting you ruffle her hair, “One of the directors was trying to show us how the scene should play out, the popcorn in the microwave caught on fire.”

You nod, awkwardly as you look around. “Was it your popcorn?” You guess.

She huffs and sinks into you, “Yes, and now I'm starving."

-

Aliyah is losing her mind. First, her father was fixing the doorbell, and now it seems to be ringing on its own. Now, her older sister won’t cooperate as she tries to steady Jenna’s legs that are in the air. The brunette shrieks, causing Aliyah to pull away and make her tumble.

Aliyah groans, “This is the thirteenth time already! Let me make this clear, you asked me to help you do this random one handed handstand, but you won’t let me even touch you so I can get you into the right pose? You’re so weird.” 

Jenna shrugs, her head on the floor as she hangs upside down from the couch. “I am letting you touch me!”

“No you aren’t! You start shrieking and then falling face flat when I do! How the hell are we going to make this work if you won’t cooperate?”

The two siblings hear some shuffling as you crawl through the dog door, fitting yourself in. They blink, staring at you as you wiggle yourself through and throw a hand in the air, showing that you brought food. “Burritos!”

“Y/N! What are you doing? Go through the back door you doofus! You could’ve just knocked!”

You finally manage to squirm your way in as you stand up, brushing some leaves off of you and throwing them into the trash. You flip your hair, crawling through doggy doors were one of your talents. You signal her Jenna to hear you out as you put up a finger, “First of all, I was ringing the doorbell like, five thousand times, then I knocked, and no one was answering! I’m not letting the food get cold.” You pause, looking at Jenna who is currently staring at you upside down and hanging from the couch. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Trying to do a one handed handstand.” 

“Oh, wait. Oh! I know how to do that!” Happily, you hand her sister the bag with burritos and tacos, before collapsing to the floor.

There was awkward silence as Jenna and Aliyah stared at each other, “Um..”

Jenna always knew you as the silly girl across the block. Even after 5 years of friendship, she thinks you’ve just gotten sillier.

“That wasn’t it, I haven’t done it in a year. Hold on.” You position yourself, slowly doing a handstand. Jenna can see your shirt slowly rising up and showing your stomach as you keep yourself steady. You lift an arm off and hang it up. “Did I do it?”

Jenna giggles and flops down the couch. “Yeah. I think so.” She crawls behind you and picks up your body that was upside down.

“Hey!”

-

“Okay, slow and steady..” You say softly, squinting and holding Jenna’s legs, making sure she was in the right position. “Aliyah, try steadying her while she puts one arm up.”

“No way, nope.” She argues, eating her taco, “She literally kept shrieking when I tried to and starting kicking and squirming.”

“She’s not shrieking right now?”

“Well you’re just different I guess, you’re her best friend, so..”

You raise your eyebrows, a smile tugging on your lips as you tickle Jenna and make her fall on you. “You just love me, don’t you!?” You giggle, hugging her as she squeals and nuzzles against you.

-

It was late in the evening as you got changed into pajamas and flopped onto your bed. Nights like this always felt better, where you would switch on a show, read a book, or call friends. You decide to check some emails, looking over some asking for you to star in movies, replying to companies that want you as their ambassador, you click out of the tab. 

A small ding sounds on your phone as you see that Emma had texted you. 

meh meh myers: LMAO look at this article i found about u and jenna: https://hypotheticalsofcelebrities

y/n: okay my own researcher and detective, or should i say pippa fitz amobi? u get me?

y/n: lemme go check it out

meh meh myers: yus ily

y/n: ur the pip to my ravi 🥺

meh meh myers: corny

You laugh at yourself as you open the link, the article named ‘Escalating Relationships, Cute or Absolute?’

You roll your eyes and scroll down.

Fans say that they’ve picked up on the actress’s behavior, scooting away from castmates who’ve gotten too close during interviews and only staying close to one or two close ones. Not that she’s uncomfortable, taken from the way she seems unfazed most times. But, it is noticed that she seems like a bundle of happiness with individuals. A clip right here shows her with a fellow castmate, Y/N L/N, both starred in the famous series, Wednesday. It is caught on how Ortega was silently making sure that her friend was okay during an interview that had turned a little more uncomfortable for the other girl, squeezing her hand and clinging onto her. It seemed to have worked, for how the girl began to relax. What a friendship they have!

The tiny moments of comfort and physical touch occur in other interviews too, as well as cute Instagram comments on each other's posts that come off as playful flirting. Some comments are pasted here.

Jenna Ortega commenting on Y/N’s post of a photoshoot press for Wednesday last year in September:

jennaortega: That’s my girl

Another one on a post of the girl just doing an Instagram photo dump this year in March:

jennaortega: if you squint closely you can see me doing the dishes for my wife in the third photo

jennaortega: i will take your last name if i have to

jennaortega: my woman, i love you

Y/N L/N commenting on a post for Jenna’s Adidas campaign last year in November:

y/n_l/n: i will be the only one applauding the longest for u

y/n_l/n: tis is why i got adidas merch

Fast forward to Christmas with a dump of Jenna’s favorite people (Y/N included) in December last year: 

y/n_l/n: I love you this is why I wanted to bake the turkey

y/n_l/n: merry christmas to my favorite person

Another one to a selfie of Jenna posted this year in April:

y/n_l/n: oh i’m interested, what’s your number?

y/n_l/n: sign my contract to be with me forever? comes with a long time of house wife chores!

-

What do you think? Are they just really good friends with the cutest flirting? Or secretly dating? Answer us down in our poll, cute, or absolute?

Final vote with 20K votes

Cute: 24%

Absolute: 76%

—

carrots4life: but like, their relationship is both cute and absolute! why aint that a option?

mangofrosties: they are def dating istg i’ve never seen them both this happy unless they are together

-

You smile, looking away from your laptop as you kick your feet. You do feel like Jenna had a soft spot for you, she always hugged you first, tried picking you up, falling asleep with each other on set. But she was just your best friend, you would all say to interviewers.

The door slightly creaks as you turn, smiling. “Hey baby, I think you should see this.”

Jenna flops on the bed with you, letting you cuddle her as she kisses you and reads your screen, a goofy grin on her face.

“I guess they caught on that we might be more than friends. I mean, it's not a lie that we are best friends, girlfriends is just a small little detail."

“Cute and absolute.”

[razorblade180]

A Quiet Home

Jaune:*walks in* Hey, I’m back.

Weiss:*writing*….

Jaune:I umm, got some food. Saph said she always makes too much so-

Weiss:You should’ve turned it down. Your nephew is a growing boy.

Jaune:She wouldn’t have offered if she couldn’t help. How’s rent looking?

Weiss:Despite my colossal fuck up on the mission, it’s covered.

Jaune:Hey, what’s important is-

Weiss:Jaune, don’t patronize me. I screwed up, got my leg hurt, got the client hurt, and lost the target. *puts pen down* Thankfully I found another high paying one. It’s a three weeks long and I’m-

Jaune:Actually…I put in a request to take that mission too. Client said he’ll think it over.

Weiss:*turns around* Excuse me? You’re taking my job line ups? You went in the last two missions. It’s my turn to-

Jaune:You need a break.

Weiss:Tsk, not this shit again. I just had a break!

Jaune:Crunching bill numbers is not a break. Weiss, your head isn’t in the game, and that’s fine. After all, your mom…

Weiss: “My mom” nothing we aren’t talking about this. There’s nothing to talk about. She lived drunk and died drunk. Predictable ending.

Jaune:Weiss-

Weiss:Give me space! And cancel your request while you’re at it. You’re in no condition to go on another assignment so quickly.

Jaune:…I’m not letting you go on that mission.

Weiss:Sorry, you’re not letting me? *stands up* I don’t remember needing your approval.

Jaune:That’s not what I-

Weiss:No it was, or else you wouldn’t have applied for the same mission despite our agreement. I made one mistake and now it goes out the window?

Jaune:You’re angry.

Weiss:Of FUCKING course I’m angry! I’m trying to keep these lights on and not burden others while you’re bringing in leftovers and stopping my job!

Jaune:You’re not doing your job! You’re running away from your problems!

Weiss:Oh you’re one to talk! The only reason why you’re here is because moving back in with your folks would be too much to handle.

Jaune:I moved in with you because you needed a roommate! My girlfriend was cutoff and alone and I could help! All I’ve been doing is trying to help!

Weiss:I didn’t ask for your help! I was handling things just fine!

Jaune:You were struggling.

Weiss:AND I’M NOT NOW!? Does it make you feel a little better to say you tried. Can’t help but I want to fix things huh?

Jaune:That’s not fair.

Weiss:Oh now we want to be fair? After intentionally making my job harder? For someone who is “trying to help” it never really works out for you now does it!? Not for me not for P-

She immediately covered her mouth, scared and shocked from the venom that almost slipped past her lips; this carelessness was given back with a stare of contempt that ate at her.

Weiss:I-

Jaune:There was a never a second I thought you were broken, or needed to be fixed. Guess that was my fault. Looks like your father did a number on you after all.

Her blood went cold. Weiss’s cheeks began to burn red as her anger boiled over.

Weiss:And yours never cared to do a swing to begin with.

Jaune:Speaking from experience?

Weiss:Get. Out.

Jaune:….

Weiss:I SAID GET OUT! I DON’T NEED THIS FROM YOU! I DON’T NEED YOU!

Jaune:…Good, cause you don’t have me. Sell my stuff for all I care.

He reaches in his pocket and throws his key at her. Weiss catches on reflex before hearing a thunderous boom as Jaune slams the door on the way out that shakes the room and cause a picture to shatter. The room is deathly silent as Weiss stares at the door.

Weiss:F-FINE! RUN BACK TO YOUR FAMILY!

………..

Not knowing what to do, Weiss simply grabbed her broom to clean up the mess Jaune made. Glass was half hazardly swept aside as she picked up a broken frame holding a photo of her laughing with Jaune, their face covered with cake from their house party with a banner overhead.

“A year of memories and miracles”

Weiss’s hand began to tremble until the picture slipped from her fingers. A giant pit filled her stomach and threatened to gag her as her knees fell to floor and her hands covered a ghastly wail. Finally, her breath was robbed and tears broke through shaking eyes filled with dread over the reality that was flooding in. The miracles were gone, and the memories, now bittersweet.

[breannasfluff]

“I’ve got to find them.” Danny breaks into the conversation, cutting off Harleen. “I won’t let people be experimented on when I can save them.”

Harleen rolls her eyes. “Honey, I’ve seen you fight, don’t get me wrong, but you’re going to need more than your fists to take this plot down.”

“Look, I know Batman isn’t a fan of Metas–”

“Since when?”

Danny rolls his eyes at the interruption. “Everyone knows that.”

Harleen glaring isn’t what Danny expects in response. “Signal is a meta. Are you tellin me that you’re biased against metahumans?”

“What? No! Why would I be?”

“Why would Batman?”

“But–but–!” Danny splutters, because all the rumors said Batman hated metas in his city. Ancients, it’s one of the reasons he chose to come here! “Wait, Signal is a meta? On Batman’s team?”

Harleen throws her hands up, letting out a half-moan, half-wail. “I’m surrounded by idiots! God, kid, what have you been doing in Gotham this whole time?”

“Delivering…pizzas?”

Pam puts a hand on Harleen’s arm. “Calm down, he’s not trying to cause trouble. He’s the least likely to be biased against metas.”

When Harleen doesn’t start ranting again, Danny restarts. “Anyway, I was going to say that I’ve been trying to lay low and keep things secret, but this is bigger than me. I’ll use my powers to get those people free, but I might need some help.”

“Wait, wait–you’re a meta?” Harleen’s eyes are a millisecond from popping out of her head.

“You didn’t know?” How didn’t she notice? Pam’s seen both sides of him, so it’s logical that she…told…Harleen.

Going by the death glare Harleen was turning on Pam, she hadn’t shared that information. The botanist holds up her hands, inching backward. “In my defense, I really thought you knew already?”

The scream is pure Harley and she tackles Pam. Plants form a net behind her before she can hit the floor and, for a minute, it’s a classic catfight.

Danny stays out of the way because maybe this was sort of his fault. He probably should have introduced himself back when he guessed their alters. But hey, he’s 16! Give him a break! Adults are supposed to have their crap together.

Read the rest here

[emmyrosee]

Give us 22 with our boy osamu 😭🌷

22 with osamu… comfort 🥺

Your nails dig into your palms as you stare, blankly, at the book in front of you. You haven’t absorbed a word in the past twelve minutes, and it’s a book you haven’t touched in months. You should feel invested.

But you don’t. And it’s killing you.

You’re not quite sure why, but the happy whistling coming from Osamu has a well of tears flooding to your waterline, the books words start melting together and your breathing picks up at his happy, “hey baby.”

When you ignore him, you feel his gaze bore into you. “Uhh… babe? You okay?”

“Mhm.”

“You… positive?” He says, and you screw your eyes shut. “I don’t want to prod you, but you seem tense, and I don’t like it for you.”

“Im fine, Osamu,” you grit your teeth. The next thing you know, a cup of juice gets placed next to your book, and he’s next to you, a warm hand on your back as he rubs soothing circles and god, you don’t want to take this out on him. Not when he treats you so good, not when he cares so much about you.

Not when you can’t do anything right, and yet he’s right there to love you.

“Talk to me,” he whispers, and you screw your eyes shut and shake your head. “Please? Let me in.”

You take a deep breath in and can’t help the wobbling in your voice, “I can’t… even… read correctly.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t read correctly!” You repeat, this time in a sob as you throw yourself into osamu’s stomach, his head immediately cradling the back of your head. “I’ve been trying and trying for the past twelve minutes, and I’ve retained none of it! My back hurts and my eyes keep vibrating, and I can’t even read correctly, for the love of god!”

He shushed you softly as his thumb gingerly rubs over your head, letting you cry it out for a bit in his shirt. You feel his breath pattern even out as an attempt to encourage you to do the same. You finally are able to stop crying long enough to breath, and he clears his throat.

“Are you doing your best?” He asks.

“What?” You ask.

“Are you doing your best right now?”

He’s not talking about reading. His words are carefully crafted to not just be about reading, and you wail into his stomach again. You nod, and he clicks his tongue, “then that’s okay. It’s okay to feel frustrated right now. But you know how to read, baby. You know how to open a book and retain every word that’s printed- you know that.”

You nod against him, and he continues, “you’re doing your best right now, and that’s plenty. I’m proud of you for all you’re doing. It’s enough- I promise you.”

“I don’t feel like it is,” you sniffle. “I don’t feel like it is enough.”

“It’s plenty,” he repeats. “Dont sabotage yourself into thinking otherwise.”

“Okay,” you whimper. You pull back to flick your eyes up at him, “I want to stop reading, please.”

He chuckles and grabs your bookmark to slip into the page, “what do you want to do?”

“I want to stay here, and cry more.”

“I can do that,” he promises, fixing his stance to be firmer and he guides you to rest your head back on his stomach. “Anything, for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Any time, babe. You know that.”

[jam3sacaster]

“Don’t worry about it, angel.”

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 / Rupert proves he will go to extremes to protect your sweet nature…

18+ FANFIC / We love protective Rupert 🥺 Shortish work. Reader character aged at 21. Hope you enjoy! 🩷

Summer had officially arrived — the glorious sun was stifling, a swarm of bumblebees had begun their treacherous mission for pollen and the most marvellous sunflowers had shot up outside of Penscombe Court, a welcoming golden hello. Venturer, who were working tirelessly to secure their bid for the franchise, however, hadn’t taken notice of the magnificent day. They were cooped inside the kitchen, slumped around the dining table, emptying bottles of whiskey.

Declan O’Hara, who was stood outside, greedily puffing on a cigarette, kept his gaze affixed on a ravenous crowd of paparazzi trudging up the gravel driveway, cameras poised expectantly. “Morning, Declan. Care to pose for us?” A snivelling man with a rotund pot belly asked. that visibly made his lips curl in rage. “Fuck off.” The Irishman spat in response. Shrugging his shoulders acceptingly, the stout man trained his camera towards Rupert’s bedroom window, subsequently followed by a mass of blinding flashes and camera shutters. Curling his lip in befuddled rage, Declan marched inside, face magenta with fury. “Where is she?” Declan questioned Rupert, noticing your absence at the table. “Getting changed. Why?” Rupert asked, nonchalantly puffing his cigarette. “There’s a pack of fuckin’ vultures outside.” He growled, exhaling deeply.

Parading outside, and walking into a flurry of flashes, Rupert shot the paparazzi a faux smile. “Afternoon, chaps. May I see what you’ve been taking pictures of? Seeing as there’s nobody here.” He asked, advancing on the portly man. Hesitantly, the man offered his camera and watched, humiliated, as Rupert hurriedly flicked through the vulnerable photos he’d stolen of you. “Right. I’ve been drinking all day, so I’m going to drunkenly collapse by the door. How drunk do you want me?” He asks, retreating to the large flowerpot housing a sunflower by the door. “Very.” The cameraman spoke, instantaneously raising the camera to his eye. “Perfect. Delete those fucking photos before you leave with a broken jaw, and I’ll be very, very drunk.” He grinned, throwing his jacket onto the floor. “You wouldn’t.” The man rolled his eyes.

“Perhaps not. But there’s a very angry Rottweiler of an Irishman in there would take great pleasure in it.” Rupert snapped, and watched as the man frantically panicked to delete the photos. Collapsing onto the flowerpot, Rupert slumped himself over, mouth agape in feigned intoxication. He waited for the burst of flashes to cease before he shot back up. “Great. I look forward to seeing them tomorrow.”

-

The summer heat was beautifully subtle the following morning. Rusted chaffinches warbled harmoniously in the beech trees, and strobes of warm ivory sunlight crept through the kitchen from the sheer voile curtains. You were stood at the oven, frying the contents of a hearty cooked breakfast for Rupert, who sat at the dining table dressed only in a pair of boxers, reading today’s Scorpion. “Anything interesting?” You ask, turning to face him. With a self-satisfied smirk, he flaunted the newspaper at you. On the cover — a picture of him sunken into the flower pots, visibly hammered. Your jaw swung open in distress. “Rupert! Oh my God!” You slammed down your spatula and charged over to him, snatching the paper from his hand.

“They can’t do this to you! How horrible and spiteful! I’m so sorry, darling.” You wail, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Oh, nonsense. Don’t worry about it, angel. They must’ve been too quick for me.” Rupert mutters, running his coarse hands over your arms to soothe you. His heart melted — knowing you were protected from the vile embarrassment you were to face. He would humiliate himself a thousand times before he allowed you to be upset once.

[countryclubkook]

thinking of topper’s gf cheating on him with rafe🤭

Favorite Secret

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Warnings: smut, cheating, mentions of alcohol, violence, blood, creampie, unprotected sex, P in V, not proofread

Summary: Your secret affair with Rafe almost goes terribly wrong when Topper decides to call in the middle of a hookup…almost

A/N: omg hii!! it’s been so so long since i’ve been on this account but I got a new job and a boyfriend🤭 life has been very very busy the last like year or so but I got the urge to write for my fav boy so I hope you guys enjoy this quick little fic🤍 and I hope all of you are well!

“Fuck Rafe, feels so good oh my god” you cried out, arching your back as your eyes rolled back when his cock hit the perfect spot inside of you. It was fucked up, screwing around with your boyfriends best friend, especially when Topper treated you so well. He bought you everything you asked for, took you on nice dates, held the door open, complimented you. Never did anything to hurt you…until that night, until that one party changed everything.

“Ugh come on Top, i’m begging you to just come for like 10 minutes. If you still don’t want to be there after that we can leave and just come back here, watch movies or something” you’d been begging for the last hour, it was the biggest party of the year and his best friend was hosting but he said he was too tired to go. You knew it was actually just because there had been whispers on the island that Sarah planned to crash it with John B and their new pogue friends.

As much as he swore to you he was over it, you know that wasn’t true and you were fine with it. You trusted him, after all you were the one there for him when she broke his heart the first time, having to be the one to pick up the pieces every single time he gave her chance after chance, you knew what it’d done to him and his trust. Having to risk seeing her there with the guy she cheated on him with didn’t exactly sound like such a fun time.

“Listen I love you, but I really would just rather stay in tonight okay babe? There will be many more parties that we can go to in the future” he said, giving you a soft smile and cupping your cheek with his hand. He could see the disappointment on your face and felt bad, you were obviously excited about this and here he was shutting it down over rumors.

“Okay, whatever you want to do” you let out a defeated sigh and nuzzled your cheek closer into his palm, not wanting to argue over something like this. It just wasn’t worth it and you did enjoy nights in with just the two of you, plus he was right, there would be another party by next weekend.

“Damn it” he muttered under his breath before shaking his head slightly, “Okay okay, 10 minutes and that’s it, deal?” he barely got out the last word before you were squealing and throwing your arms around his neck He wrapped his arms around your waist and let out a small laugh, the smile on your face lighting up the whole room.

“Thank you thank you thank you! We’re going to have so much fun okay? You’re not going to want to leave by the time those 10 minutes are up, this is going to be the best night ever” famous. last. words.

Everything was great, the two of you were having the time of your life. Drinking and dancing together, talking with Rafe and a few of your other friends, then you slipped away for five minutes to use the bathroom, 5 minutes. Who knew so much could go wrong in just 5 minutes.

You walked out to see a crowd forming around two people and heard shouting, you’d expected to walk over and see two guys fighting like usual. Both of them far too drunk to even make contact with the other, but instead you saw your boyfriend on top of John B, his fist connecting to his cheek over and over and over again. You didn’t even like the kid but seeing blood and spit fly from his mouth and his gurgled wails of pain made you feel bad and you knew you needed to stop it.

You saw Rafe standing nearby watching, small smirk on his face as his eyes darted from the two boys to his sister begging Topper to stop while she sobbed. You walked up to him and touched his arm to bring his attention to you.

“Y/N! What’s up?” he said it so nonchalantly, like the scene in front of you wasn’t even happening. You knew he hates the pogues, hell you know he’d let John B die right then and there and feel no remorse, but he was the only one you knew had even the slightest chance of stopping it.

“Rafe you have to make them stop, it’s over okay? If you guys wanted to teach them a lesson i think they’ve learned it so can you please make it stop?” you could see him thinking about it, his brows furrowing ever so slightly and eyes going from you to Topper and John B to Sarah and then back to you.

“Mmm, I don’t know Y/N/N…kind of feel like he deserves it don’t you? I mean my slut of a sister cheats on my best friend, your boyfriend, with that good for nothing pogue and then they have the nerve to show up here? To rub it in his face? Why should I stop them?” he cocked his head and gave you a smirk, leaning against the wall with one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around his red solo cup full of god knows what. You knew the only way to convince him was to use the one card you knew would work, the one you hated using against him in all the time you knew him.

“Because you don’t want your dad finding out about it. You’re not even supposed to be throwing parties here, what happens if a pogue ends up dead because of the party and Ward finds out? I couldn’t care less if he dies, i’m just trying to save your ass right now so please” you saw his jaw clench, watched his chest start rising and fall slowly, more heavily than before, and you knew it worked.

“Fuck! Fine, i’ll handle it” he yelled before throwing his cup on the ground and walking over to the two, by this point John B was barely conscious and it’s like Topper was in his own world. Rafe walked over and pulled him off by the collar of his shirt before ushering Sarah to attend to her boyfriend, screaming that the party was over and for everyone to get the fuck out.

People quickly dispersed, whispering to each other about what just happened, until it was just the three of you left at tannyhill. Top was still fuming, veins bulging out, sweat dripping down his forehead, chest rapidly heaving, knuckles bruised and bloody, a crazed look in his eyes. You tried to walk up to him to calm him down but it’s like he couldn’t even see you, he instead turned around and walked to his jeep before getting in and driving away, leaving you stranded.

“What the fuck?!” you screamed, standing at the bottom of the driveway watching the taillights disappear as they got further and further away.

You walked back up to the porch where Rafe was waiting, looking awkwardly at the ground unsure of what to say. What are you supposed to do in this situation other than offer them a ride…or in this case alcohol.

“I’m sorry Y/N, that was shitty of him. Give him some time to cool off and he’ll come back to his senses, if you uh, if you want you could just crash here. I would offer to drive you home but you know…” he said, making a brief gesture to himself “i’m kind of drunk so, don’t really want to risk hurting you. There’s plenty of alcohol if you want to just get drunk and pass out in the guest room, the beds freshly made and I think Sarah still has some clothes here that would fit you.”

“Thank you Rafe, that’s really sweet of you. Do you think you could um, stay with me? Just hang out here and talk, drink a little, I just don’t want to be alone right now” you sounded so pathetic, tear stained cheeks and puffy red eyes.

“Yeah, yeah absolutely”

One drink turned into another and then another, the both of you drunk and giggling while you talked. And then it happened, one little glance at his lips in a moment of shared silence, his hand tucking your hair behind your ear, and you were in his lap kissing him. His hands roaming all over your body until you were pulling away to tell him to take you to the bedroom.

Clothes flying, drunken squeals and giggles slipping out between your moans, the way he made you feel, those were the only things you can clearly remember. And then you woke up the next morning staring at his naked chest, but you didn’t feel guilty for it, instead you wanted it to happen again.

And it did, it happened multiple times a week. Topper did apologize, made up for his behavior that night, but you’d already got a taste of Rafe and now you were hooked. He never suspected anything, didn’t notice the little shared glances between the two of you when you all hung out, the way Rafe’s hand would brush against your thighs, his little whispers in your ear that made you squirm, he was just happy you forgave him. You never thought you’d be at risk getting caught until now, when you were on all fours and Rafe was thrusting into you from behind, one hand tangled in your hair and the other gripping your hip to pull you back into his cock. The both of you were so lost in pleasure that Rafe almost didn’t hear his phone going off, he quickly moved to grab it off the table and answer it.

“Topper, what’s up man?” your eyes widened, panic starting to kick in. You’d thought it was over, he knew, someone had seen something and told him, he put the pieces together, he was calling to tell him he knew.

“Y/N? Yeah she came by to pick something up, said she left it here the last time you guys were over and she had to be out this way anyway. Think she’s still upstairs” you let out a moan when he thrusted back into you unexpectedly, turning your head back to look at him with a bewildered expression. He just gave a a smirk and held his finger to his lips before moving it back to your hip and pulling you back into him to meet each thrust.

You dropped your face into the mattress to muffle any loud moans, pure bliss taking over your body each time Rafe’s cock pressed against that little spot inside your pussy, hoping the call would be over soon. And then the son of a bitch flips you over, puts you on your back and gives you that look. You know, the one that just screams ‘i’m up to no good and you’re about to hate me for this’.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, looking up at him in confusion while trying not to make a sound.

“Actually, she just came down. You wanna talk to her real quick before she finishes up and heads that way?” if looks could kill he’d be six feet under right about now, you shook your head but it was too late, the phone was by your ear and you had no choice.

“Hey baby” it came out shakier than planned and you hoped he wouldn’t question it, it was a lot harder hiding the fact you were cheating on your boyfriend when the man you’re cheating with had his cock buried deep inside your pussy thrusting into you like his life depends on it while on call with said boyfriend.

“Is everything okay? You sound a little winded babe” he was always so concerned, wanting to make sure you were okay at all times if he even suspected something was wrong.

“Better tell him you’re okay princess, don’t let him find out his best friend is balls deep inside his girlfriends pretty pussy” Rafe whispered in your ear, leaving open mouth kisses along your neck and chest.

“Yeah, just a lot of running around the house looking for my ring is a-all” you stuttered out when Rafe pushed all the back into you again, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Okay…well I was wondering if you wanted to go out tonight? There’s this really nice restaurant i’ve been wanting to take you to, finally managed to get a reservation, and there was something I wanted to talk to you about” you weren’t even fully listening to what he was saying to be honest, you were paying more attention to how good you felt and the smell of Rafe’s cologne, the way his skin felt against yours, how your bodies seemed to mold together perfectly.

“Yea-yeah babe. Sounds great” you were about to let out a moan when long ring clad fingers found their way into your mouth and you, on instinct, bit down slightly.

“Great! I’ll be at your place to pick you up in like an hour okay? I love you”

“Great! Love you too bye” you quickly got out before hanging up and letting out a moan, digging your nails into Rafe’s back.

“Fuck baby i’m close, you want me to fill this pretty pussy with my cum? Want a little reminder that even if you’re with him, you’ll always be mine?” you could only nod, small whimpers filling the room.

A few more lazy thrusts before he pushed all the way into you and stayed there, feeling his cock twitch while he filled you with his cum. Your pussy clenching around him while you came at the same time, head thrown back and lips parted moaning his name, a white ring forming on his cock from your cum mixing with his. He pulled out after a few seconds and pulled you to your knees before sliding his cock in your mouth.

“Suck it off baby, just clean it up for me” and you did, licking every drop of your cum off his cock before he pulled out and got dressed.

You went to grab something to wipe the cum away when he stopped you.

“Nah, you go on your little date with my cum leaking out of you”

You gave him a dazed look before nodding and throwing your dress back on followed by your shoes, giving him a kiss and heading for the door.

“That was fun Rafe, i’ll call you later okay?”

“I know you will pretty girl, I look forward to it.” the smile on his face was genuine, not one that he had after a meaningless hookup, but one of true happiness. You brought out the best in him and he couldn’t even have you in any way other than this.

“Me too, I better go now. See ya” you were almost out the front door when you heard him yell your name. You turned around to see him leaning in the doorframe of his bedroom, waiting to see what he had to say.

“You’re my favorite secret”

[suuuupernovaaa]

Neteyam is angry with his beloved, and doesn’t know what to do with those feelings.

The anger deep in the pits of his stomach is manifesting in restlessness. Neteyam cannot sit still. He is pacing, throwing his arms around, shaking, anything to keep the thoughts at bay.

The image of her, bloodied, gone from him forever. He can’t shake it. Her last breath shuddering from her chest, while he wails at her side.

He throws his head back, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, willing the picture away.

“Neteyam?” his mother’s calm voice comes from just outside his mauri pod. “Come,” she beckons, and like a good son, he follows.

His mother leads him to her, where she sits at Lo’ak’s bedside, holding his hand while the healer tends to him.

He stares at her chest, watching it rise and fall, taking in healthy breaths. Her eyes dart around as tears pool in them, threatening to spill over onto her dirty cheeks.

She looks up and sees him, and clouds cross her face. His mother kneels next to her and gently nudges her, until his mate to be releases Lo’ak into his mother’s care and stands up to join Neteyam.

He turns and exits, and his beloved follows.

Far away from any prying ears, Neteyam leads them to the beach, not stopping until they are ankle deep in the quiet waters.

“I’m sorry, Neteyam,” the woman says with fear in his voice, and his anger only grows. “I did try to stop him. I’m so sorry.”

Neteyam hates himself. He hates himself for being blind, and foolish, and angry. This woman was promised to him when they were only children, and he took her for granted these nearly 18 years since. She was always there, and he grew accustomed to her presence. He forgot to delight in her.

Seeing her this morning, on the ground next to his brother, covered in blood and as still as the stars, sent such a panic and rage through him that he realized it for the first time.

The depth of his love for her. The way her smile and voice are like a warm embrace. How much he needs to see and touch her every day. How desperate he is to claim her as his own, in every way.

She is everything to him, and he thought he had lost her.

“When I saw you there, I thought you were dead. I thought I’d lost you forever.” His voice is small, measured, and he is so close to breaking into tears.

She reaches out to him, and he leans into her touch, her fingers gently resting on his cheek.

“I’m whole, ‘Teyam. I would not leave you yet.”

He opens his eyes to see her smiling.

“I’ve been so angry all day that you put yourself in danger.”

Her smile fades and he knows, for certain, that she did not realize he cared that much. He has failed her in this.

“I’ve done you a disservice, by not expressing to you before now how ardently and wholly I love you.”

He would have been too embarrassed to say the words before today, but nearly losing her has changed everything.

“You are everything to me. Absolutely everything,” he says. “I won’t lose you. Not due to your own misplaced bravery, or my brother’s foolishness. You won’t be out of my sight, from this moment forward.”

He doesn’t care how controlling it sounds. He won’t risk her for anything. Nothing else compares to her.

She steps forward and wraps her arms around his waist. He pulls her tightly to him, breathing in the saltwater scent of her braided hair as he rests his chin on the top of his head.

“I love you too. You can be my shadow, if it brings you comfort.”

He can feel her lips turn up in a smile against the skin of his chest, and he smiles too.

Her shadow.

That sounds good.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Kinktober Day 7 (& 8): Soft & Slow (Cockwarming)

pairing: college!miguel o’hara x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, smut, rivals to lovers, teasing

wc: 735

an: wrote this for the sweetest most lovely @campingwiththecharmings, i hope you enjoy bb 🥰

kinktober masterlist | misc. masterlist

“Are you giving up?” Miguel asks you after several moments of silence.

“What? No!” You glare down at him breathlessly.

Why does the man who grinds your gears like it’s job have to be so attractive? Smooth skin, deep brown eyes, the cheekbones of Adonis. It pisses you off, but at least he can make you feel good. That’s all this is, all you want it to be. It’s sex. Just sex. Or maybe that’s what you keep telling yourself.

His grip on your hips tightens, shifting them up and down slowly. The sweet drag of his cock makes your mind blank, a shiver skating down your spine. He watches you with hooded eyes, drinking in every expression and sound that leaves you. He loves you like this, warming his cock just on the edge of pleasure as he quizzes you over and over again on this week’s physics lecture.

“Then answer the question,” He says, eyes glittering with mischief.

“I-I’m thinking,” You insist, though that couldn’t be farther from the truth. He’s been teasing you for a while now— keeping you pinned on his cock with a thrust or roll of hips here and there. You’re dizzy and needy, all you can focus on is him. On him making you cum.

“About how good my cock feels?”

“Fuck you.”

He laughs beneath you, loud and full, and your breath catches at the way it sends him a hair deeper. “You can’t think that was a good comeback.”

You groan, swatting playfully at his chest, “Please, Mig, can’t we just get off first?”

He sits up in a move that makes you whimper, nuzzling his nose against yours, “Where’s the fun in that? You could just admit that I’m smarter. I’ll fuck you however you want after that.”

“You fucking wish.”

Snaking his hand between your slick bodies he presses two fingers to your clit as he continues to goad you, “We both know it’s true, c’mon angel, don’t you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes,” You moan, head falling to the side. You don’t care anymore, you just need more. You need him.

“Yes, what?”

“You’re smarter, just fuck me. Please.”

He holds you tight to his chest, pressing you into the mattress and pinning your hands down above your head. While he’s fucking you earnestly now, his hips grind against yours at a leisurely pace, pressing against that sensitive spot inside you. All you can do is gasp and groan beneath him, listening to the filth that pours out of his mouth.

I’ve got you. There you go. So cock drunk, look at you. Cum for me, honey.

You do just that, cumming for him with a high pitched wail that he cuts off with a kiss. Your mind whirls, so much so that you don’t notice when he joins you in your peak, or when he rolls to lay beside you, still holding you close.

“I take it back. You don’t play fair,” You quip once your mind returns to you, breath still labored.

He raises a brow at you, cupping your face with his hand to tilt your chin up, “When has this rivalry ever been fair?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“And clearly, you need some tutoring,” He teases, grin widening when you roll your eyes at him. “Stay— I’ll make us dinner.”

“Dinner,” You repeat skeptically, looking over at him to gauge his seriousness.

“Yes, two people eating a meal together at night. A common occurrence, querida.”

“Like…like a date?” You ask softly.

Miguel’s gaze flatters— something you’ve never seen before. He’s the spokesman for confidence, even if he’s wrong he’s always ready to assure you that he can do better. But right now…he looks shy. It throws you off.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, like a date.”

Silence spreads between you two. You have to be cautious about this— what if it’s one of his jokes? A way to get in your head.

“What happened to this being a rivalry?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m tired of fighting,” He looks up at you, and there’s something soft, something gooey about the way he’s looking at you.

Your mouth pulls up into a shy smile as you say, “Well. Dinner’s not gonna cook itself.”

He snorts, shaking his head as he rises out of the bed, shimming into his boxers. Leaning down he kisses you, murmuring into your mouth, “Stay put smart ass.”

oscar: @honeybrowne, @pastanoodles11, @steven-grants-world, @stevengrcnt, @greg-montgomery, @lesbianhotch, @mccn-bcys, @marc-spectorr, @whatthefishh, @simpforbritgents, @maisondenachtai, @silversprings-mp3, @flightlessangelwings

[loveharlow]

ajax x vamp!reader who turns into a bat & cuddles up to ajax whenever she’s anxious & he either keeps her on his beanie (comfy for her), on his chest (if he’s lying down), in his hands or in his jacket pocket<3

I really hope you like this bc I do, this request was too cute. This isn't really a blurb but it's not a full fic either. Would this be considered a drabble? Mini-fic?

“JAX! AJAX! HELP ME!” Ajax turned his head at the sound of me wailing through the courtyard, the few people around turning their heads to look at me — the girl who was sprinting full speed towards her boyfriend.

I didn’t slow down as I grew closer, causing me to tumble into him as he wrapped his arms around me. A puff of air left his lips as I crashed into his chest. I was breathing heavily, trying to catch my breath while moving in his arms to try and look behind me.

“What’s wrong?” He chuckled, looking down at me. My eyes were wide and my lips were parted, I probably looked crazy and paranoid and, in a sense, I was.

“I was looking for Wednesday in her and Enid’s dorm-” I started, speaking through labored, deep breaths. “-And I accidentally broke one of the keys on her typewriter when I almost tripped over Thing because I didn’t see him and now Wednesday is power walking after me like Micheal Myers and she looks like she wants to kill me-”

“Slow down...” He coaxed, rubbing one hand up and down my back for comfort. “You gotta calm down before-”

“Y/n.” A flat, feminine voice perked up from behind me. Ajax and I were too busy talking to one another that neither of us noticed Wednesday, in all of her dark glory, approaching us. At the sound of her voice, knowing she was most likely mere inches behind me, I gasped and all of sudden I was out of Ajax’s arms and floating mid-air.

Shit.

Ajax sighed and tipped his head to the side to look at Wednesday. “Look at what you did.” He said exasperatedly, throwing his arms out.

The girl simply quirked an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “This? Has nothing to do with me. She damaged my typewriter. I didn’t even know she could do…” She examined by small, winged, floating form. “This.”

“It’s not by choice.” Ajax informed the girl, cupping his hands for me to land in them. I flew over to his joined palms and rested in them. “Not all the time anyway. It happens when she gets anxious. I’ve been trying to help her, though. This is a small setback…”

Wednesday scanned me with her eyes for a few more moments before blankly shrugging her shoulders. “Well, I apologize for startling you.” She spoke, then pointed her finger at my figure in Ajax’s hands. “But you will fix my typewriter.” She said sternly before turning on her heel and walking away.

Then Ajax was lifting his hands to his eye level, me turning around to face him. “Y’know, I know this sucks for you,” He started. “But you’re really cute like this. Not saying you’re not cute all the time-”

I put my head down and shook it in disappointment. “Don’t shake your head at me, I was being nice.” He said in his defense. Sometimes, I wish I could speak like this but unfortunately, that doesn’t come with the perks of being a vampire.

Suddenly, the bell was ringing and only then did I realize the school day was still ongoing which meant that-

“I know you hate this…” Ajax started, pity in his eyes. I could feel my tiny bat ears fall and my eyes fall sad. He was going to have to put me in his pocket until I changed back — which would take a few hours seeing as I still had no control over it. He looked up and around to see the swarms of students coming out of their classes to go to the next.

Looking back at me, he had a sorry expression on his face. “I love you. Sorry.” Was all he said before he gently slid me in his pocket. It wasn’t uncomfortable or unfamiliar. It was just nerve-wracking because when he first started to carry me around like this, he forgot I was in his pocket one time and threw his jacket into his hamper.

It was actually quite comfortable there. It was warm and soft and surprisingly easy to breathe. 

It wasn’t long before Ajax settled down into class, where I was supposed to be as well. Quietly informing the teacher of my predicament as to not tell the whole class, an act which I silently thanked him for before dozing off in his pocket.

I WOKE UP, STILL IN THE COMFORT OF AJAX'S POCKET, TO THE FEELING OF FINGERS INVADING THE SPACE. Realizing that class had probably ended long ago, along with the school day, I crawled into the hand and held steady as Ajax introduced me back to the comfort of the outside — the sun beaming in my sore, tired eyes as I shielded them with my wings. 

He seemed to be standing in the yard near where the Poe Cup is held, his usual spot to meet up with Xavier after school.

Speaking of the devil, said boy was making his way over to us. His eyes squinting in confusion the closer he got, trying to decipher what Ajax was holding in his hands. When he came to a stop in front of us, he was trying his best to hold back laughter.

Even in my current state, I managed to roll my eyes. You see, Xavier and I were friends but our friends would like to describe us as having a brother-sister type bond. However, this meant that Xavier tended to tease me and be a pain in my ass constantly.

“Again?” He wheezed out.

Ajax stood back shaking his head at his hysterical friend. I, however, decided that Xavier didn’t deserve to laugh at my misfortune. So, during his fit of laughter, I took off from Ajax’s hand, him desperately reaching for me and having no idea what I was up to, and began to swarm around Xaviers head.

His laughter switched to him frantically trying to swat me away as Ajax was the one laughing now and I would be too if I weren't, y’know. I wanted to annoy Xavier as much as possible, flying by his ears, messing with his hair.

“Jax, man, get your murderous girlfriend!-” Xavier pleaded, still swatting aimlessly.

“Alright, alright,” Ajax started, shaking off his amusement as he motioned his hand to wave me back over. “I think he’s got it, love.”

Stopping my harmless assault on the artistic boy, I made my way back to Ajax, perching myself on the top of his beanie as Xavier stood back fixing his hair, shooting me a playful glare. “I will see you and your vicious animal later.” He said in mock-anger before heading off.

I couldn’t see his face but I could tell his eyes were looking up, trying to look at me on top of his head. “Y’know he’s going to kill me for that, right?”

Even though he received no response, he chuckled and moved his head around a bit, signaling me to move onto another part of him. I chose his shoulder. “I can’t wait until you change back. You're going to make me public enemy number one.”

©loveharlow

[3-2-whump]

Tear-Filled Noncon (Mutual!)

it's a working title, I'm bad with titles

Continuation of this idea

Art here

TW/CW: because this is a continuation of the previous noncon idea, a lot of the same warnings will apply. Rape/Noncon, intimate whumper, obsessed whumper, domestic violence (including brief head trauma), some degradation, inner thoughts that go a bit dark. If I missed anything, pls let me know!

He turned the key slowly in the lock, opened the door as quietly as he could, and closed it equally as carefully behind him. Whumpee’s eyes swept over the living room. The apartment was quiet and dark, dimly illuminated only by the city lights in the window. More importantly, the door to the master bedroom was closed, with no light peeking out from underneath. Whumpee sighed in relief; he’d gotten away with it.

The next breath caught in his throat as he was body-slammed into the door. A large hand pinned both wrists above his head when he tried to defend himself from the unseen force. The other hand yanked his head back by his hair, eliciting a surprised yelp of pain. “Where were you?” a warm breath hissed in his ear.

Whumpee squirmed under his master’s punishing grasp. “I-I can explain-”

“Like hell you can!” The hand in Whumpee’s hair drove his head forward and smashed it against the door. Sharp pain unfurled in the back of his skull as stars danced across his blurry vision. “Your curfew is midnight at latest, and it’s nearly two in the morning,” Whumper's angry voice thundered past the incessant throbbing in his head. The hand on his wrists tightened into a bruising grip. “So tell me-” Whumpee cried out in pain as the hand in his hair pulled harder. “Where were you?”

“You’re hurting me!” Whumpee gasped.

“Well you’re hurting me!” Whumper let go of him at once, only to throw him to the floor of the entrance. Whumpee landed hard on his side. He reflexively tried to curl into a ball to protect himself, but within moments the man had flipped him onto his back to better climb on top of him. A loud ripping sound punctuated Whumpee’s whimpers in the darkness as his shirt was torn clean in two. “Coming home late at night, with no regard to my rules, and smelling like a cheap motel –wait…” Whumper’s eyes zeroed in on a necklace of hickeys that rested on the young man’s collarbone. He slapped him, once, then twice, then again. “Who gave you those hickeys?” Slap! “Who were you sleeping with?!” Slap! “Well, answer me, whore!”

Whumpee shook his head, the tears streaming down his face as he continued to beg for mercy. “Clearly you’ve forgotten who you belong to,” Whumper huffed. “No problem, this just means I’ve got to remind you!” He brusquely unbuttoned Whumpee’s pants and pulled them and his boxers down the young man’s trembling thighs. Whumpee’s pleas of “no, no, stop, please, stop” went entirely ignored as he was flipped onto his stomach. His begging took on a frantic pitch as his body started visibly shaking. He’d never been taken from behind before, and this new position made him panic.

“You don’t deserve to be fucked like a person, so you’ll take it like the wanton little bitch you are!”

“No, no, stop, please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, no, I’m sorry!”

“Shut up!” Whumpee wailed as his hips were wrenched up from the floor and Whumper entered him without any prep or lube. The man was not gentle, far from it. Quick, desperate thrusts punctured him deeper than he was used to. It was the roughest he had ever been with him, unquestionably, feeling less like having sex and more like being torn in half. Stubbornly enough, Whumpee’s body reacted to these more intense sensations all the same, especially when the man on top of him continuously slammed into that sweet spot inside of him.

“Look at you,” Whumper commented derisively, a hint of bitterness in his gravelly voice. “Hard as a rock already, you slutty thing! You’d be happy with just anyone’s cock inside your ass, wouldn’t you?” Whumpee’s cheeks colored in shame as a shaky moan interrupted his pleas. “But you shouldn’t be; you’re mine!”

He felt a thin, warm fluid trickle past the cock pummeling his hole. The man above him crushed him further into the carpeted floor. “I own this ass, and it is mine to fuck,” he screamed, “you got it?! No one else’s, just mine!”

He didn’t have to see behind him to know he was bleeding. At least it makes Master’s thrusts a little less painful, he thought. That feeling of morbid relief alone made him cry even harder. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Why am I not enough for you?!” Whumper’s voice wavered with emotion. His angry thrusts turned sloppier as he continued. “Damn it, and damn you! I gave you everything you could ask for; I gave you everything you could have needed! I fed you, clothed you, made you into the man you are today, so why?! What are they giving you that I’m not?!” The man’s voice caught on the last question. Whumpee felt small wet drops of liquid fall onto the nape of his neck. Tears? He realized with horror that Whumper was crying as he was raping him.

“M-Master, I-I’m sorry, please-”

“I said, shut up!” He pulled Whumpee back by the hips until he was flush with the older man’s pubic bone, burying himself to the hilt and spilling deep inside him. They stayed in that position for an uncomfortably long time. Suppressed sniffling sounds filled the entryway, and Whumpee knew they weren’t all coming from him. Whumper eventually pulled out, leaving his hole gaping and obscenely oozing cum. He settled on the floor next to Whumpee and repositioned them both onto their sides. “I love you, boy,” he murmured as he pulled him closer to spoon him. “I don’t enjoy hurting you, boy.” The tension gradually left Whumpee’s body as he accepted the forced cuddles. The man planted a kiss on the back of his ear, right above the barcode tattoo that marked him indelibly as property. The kiss was wet and tinged with sadness. “So why do you make me hurt you?”

-

Because what we do –no, what you do to me- is not supposed to feel good. How could it feel good? I didn’t want it, I don’t want it, and I will never want it, so why does my body betray me every time? What if it’s because you’re right? What if this really was my true purpose? To be nothing more than a pair of holes to fill and a body to break under yours? What if I am all those names you call me because I think this feels good?

And, what if I act out, do all the things I know will test your patience and make you rough and uncaring so that it finally hurts? So that it finally doesn’t feel good, and I don’t have to ask if my body and my mind are on the same page about me being violated? What if that’s why I make you hurt me? Would you stop? Would you hurt me more? Would it even matter?

-

That is everything Whumpee wanted to say. Instead, through a throat ripped raw from screaming, he rasped, “I don’t know.”

[dadsbongos]

PLEASE MORE AIRHEAD W GOJO SHOKO GETOU 🙏🙏PLEASE

5.1 K words

warnings - i borderline refused to proofread this, suguru wears a skirt and it awakens something in you, also suguru's anti-non sorcerers agenda, dumb timeline doesn't make sense (get over it), filler arc fic

summary - crack that i decided to take seriously, you and the gang go on a beach mission! and some things don't turn out as expected...

“Woah, ‘Toru, check out this yellow!” you jab a finger into the cold, hard plexiglass caging the many frozen flavors from onlooking civilians, “It’s, like, traffic sign yellow!”

“Who would eat that?” he grumbles, glaring at the engraving below the tub - advertising that specific hideous color as a special new taste, “For 4,000 yen?”

“Get me coffee, kay?” Shoko shoots you a glance from over her phone, thumb dancing across her cramped keypad, “And keep it down, you’ll piss off the vendor.”

“Yeah,” Suguru slips up beside you, nose wrinkled and chin tucked close to his chest to avoid the obnoxious scent of sweaty, huffing people, “You’re both making a scene,” his brows furrow over at your accomplice, “Didn’t you just get scolded by Yaga yesterday, Satoru?”

Suguru knows he did, actually, because who else would’ve been the one that held a bag of frozen peas to the hot red lump in Satoru’s forehead for thirty whole minutes?

“Hey,” but you’ve paid neither any mind, pointing at the other end of the display bay to a red-and-white swirled tub. The edges have browned together and its melting points have re-frozen in an unattractive slime, “Gross!” taking Satoru by the hand, you drag him over to the far corner, “Let’s check it out!”

“Hm, we’re way too early,” Shoko pokes her head through the turquoise and cream-striped tent flaps as you order.

“And one coffee scoop,” Suguru calls to you and Satoru when the clan heir beside you finishes demanding two cups of the red velvet cheesecake, pointedly ignoring the baggy-eyed, slouching teenager behind the steel counter.

“On it,” the boy grumbles, scooping up each order in hurried, jerky swings.

Satoru swings a lanky arm through one of yours, head leaning onto yours as he pathetically whines, “My blood sugar is crashing… Won’t make it much longer…”

Two plastic cups in illustrated covers of the stall’s logo slide to another awaiting couple as Satoru sets his card down in preparation to pay. You turn back to Suguru and gesture to the tubs of ice cream, frowning when he merely shakes his head. Shoko inches between you and Satoru, breaking your chain, and you take that as an opportunity to huddle into your broodier friend.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

Satoru turns back at the sound of your voice, abandoning his credit card on the counter, and Shoko watches silently.

“No, you enjoy it,” Suguru insists, smiling despite your puppy-eyed pout.

“But I don’t want you to miss out!”

“I’m happy enough that the four of us can go on a mission again.”

“How sweet,” Satoru wrangles an arm over Suguru’s shoulders, sighing with all the dramatics of a tantrum throwing toddler, “It has been too long since our last mission altogether.”

Shoko nods, moving next to you with one hand jammed into the pocket of her skirt, “It doesn’t help that you two,” she points at the boys, “decided to pick up a couple problem children.”

“Aw, c’mon,” you chirp, “That’s not fair to the girls, and Megumi’s really nice when you know him!”

“Ehh,” she waves her hand loosely, rolling her eyes, “I’ll cross those bridges when they get to high school; I’m no good with kids.”

Shrugging, you think of how well-behaved and kind both Tsumiki and Megumi are (well, Megumi has his moments), “Neither is Satoru and the Fushiguro’s seem fine.”

“Hey,” Satoru is quickly shrugged off his friend’s shoulder when he wails into Suguru’s ear with abandon, “Not fair! I’ve really improved over the months!”

“You still make him stir fry with bell peppers!”

“It’s delicious!”

You glower at his defense, “Doesn’t matter how tasty it is - Megumi’s not gonna eat it!”

Suguru can’t help but ignore the shouting in his ears in favor of appreciating the sight before him. You and Satoru and Shoko. Knowing Nanako and Mimiko are safe and happy at home. With your perfume and even Shoko’s natural nicotine cling working overtime to mask the scent of every monkey crowding this beach. Ignoring the monkeys got easier over time, keeping the real reasons he’s decided to carry on fighting in mind instead. Satoru and Shoko and Nanako and Mimiko and Haibara and Nanami and Yaga and, of course, you.

Two hands slam into his back, the rest of you just barely peeking out from around Suguru’s broad shoulders to glare at Satoru, who’s slung his tea shade sunglasses to the pad of his nose in a vague, blue-eyed threat.

Suguru claps a hand harshly against his friend’s shoulder, jostling the boy’s body, “Put them away, Satoru.”

Shoko bounds out of the small parlor with both hands in her pockets, murmuring something about needing a smoke break.

Satoru pulls his glasses entirely from his face, grinning at Suguru, “Aw, trying to be the big, brave knight?”

“Satoru,” Suguru calls lowly, impatience only thinly veiled.

Effectively cutting off the altercation, a hand cuffs the backs of yours and Satoru’s uniform collars and drags you both towards the open tent flap. Suguru curls his hands into fists at the sight but staves off a retort, even as both you and Satoru are thrown into the sand. A taller man with thicker arms, but the same sunken eyes and tight frown as the teen behind the counter squints down at the both of you, “And stay out!”

“Aw, we didn’t even get our ice cream…”

Shoko tosses her head back, melodic laugher ringing sweetly into your ears before she snaps forward, pinching at your cheek, “Sorry your boytoys couldn’t complete their mission.”

Quirking a brow at her, you don’t even bother to swipe away her fingers on your cheek, “Boytoys…?”

Satoru gasps, ‘tsk’ing at Shoko while covering your ears, “Hey, keep her innocent!”

Shoko removes her hand from you just to knock Satoru’s off the sides of your head. She looks over her shoulder, lips pursing as she surveys the cramped line of tented and umbrella’d stalls, “We should split up. You two are just causing trouble,” she grins at Satoru’s offended look, “As usual.”

Suguru hums, testy and wholly argumentative, “I think we should lay low for the next couple of hours and come back. The curse is more likely to come out at night.”

You frown at the thought of being stuffed into a yellow-walled, vaguely blood-stained, two bed hotel room.

And Suguru backtracks, “Nevermind.”

Snagging you by the arm, Shoko jerks you into her side and jabs a thumb over her shoulder, “We’ll be investigating some swimsuit tents, get a sense of any residuals or smaller curses,” then she points at the duo before you, “You two should find your own thing.”

You’ve given no say before being dragged off to a snowy white tent, sand kicked up and sticking to the flowy drapes. Even small shops for clothing can carry lingering, bothersome curses with anxiety over fat that naturally rolls and jiggles or peeking scars and colored splotches. And despite only having about two years of official sorcery under your belt, you’ve noticed that lingerie, typical underwear, and swimsuits were especially troublesome for gathering curses.

That’s especially noticeable when flyheads and low grade spirits crawl along the tarp, crinkling, unpleasant floor and clawing into the legs and necks of unassuming women. But Shoko has taken no interest in any of them.

Instead, she shoves another wood hanger into your face, “What about this one?”

“Mmm,” clicking your tongue, the sight of a neon orange with lemon yellow lining inspires no particular sparkles or electricity under your skin, “nah.”

Shoko nods and clinks the hanger back onto the rod, “Agreed.”

“Hey, Shoko?” you tilt your head at her, holding out the two swimsuit sets already dangling off your fingers, “How’re we paying for these?”

“Ah!” she snickers, fingers dipping into a skirt pocket before proudly displaying a black, plastic card in her palm, “The Strongest left his card out, so I’m teaching him a lesson,” tucking her hand back into hiding, she grins at you, “So rack up as many as you want.”

“Hmm…”

“He’ll hardly even know the money’s gone.”

“Isn’t that stealing?”

She shrugs, “No.”

Your lashes narrow at that response, brows furrowing, before beaming at Shoko with an enthusiastic nod, “Okay :D”

“That’s the spirit!” she claps you on the back, like a father after his son’s first little league championship.

And like a bushy-tailed young child unburdened by popularity contests and pinching pennies and needing to press the best words into the best order to feel adequate, you gaze out at the seven, stunted racks with wonder. Golden wheat fields that sway in long waves under the wind that whistles through pokey tree branches. A land all yours.

And like every conqueror before, you’re eager to feed on the dancing wheat you don’t yet own, “I wonder which one I’ll wear first.”

“I wonder if they’d want something…�� Suguru mutters, only for his own ears.

Satoru blows a raspberry from behind his friend, chin settling onto Suguru’s shoulder and staring down at the wiry, iron shelf with painted, glazed shells and tiny red-lipsticked ladies with thick black curls and wooden curves on plastic, circle podiums and chunky plastic beaded necklaces.

“You’re so obsessed.”

Suguru grunts, slamming an elbow into Satoru’s gut and making no contact, “You were thinking it, too.”

“Not like you,” Satoru waves off, patting himself down for the thin outline of his credit card. When the first search comes up entirely empty, he looks over at Suguru, “Uh,” then returns to his pockets, hands dipping into the gaps, “Huh.”

“What?”

“I don’t have my card,” Satoru taps his foot once, then twice, then shrugs, “Oops.”

“‘Oops,’” Suguru snickers, “Are you gonna cut it off?”

“It’ll turn up somewhere,” stretching his hands above his head, Satoru yawns, “Sorry we can’t get your girlfriend anything.”

“And Shoko. And she’s not my girlfriend… We really should’ve just gone to a hotel, all the smaller curses will be attracted to the dock.”

Satoru can’t even be bothered to deny Suguru his natural right to feeling smug, just turning and waltzing out from the cheap, tacky souvenir stand under a peachy umbrella. Sweat beads miserably down his back and forehead from under his black uniform, shoes sinking into the sand with every step towards the coast.

It was something that nagged at the both of them, honestly. The surface-level pointlessness of this mission, especially the early nature of your group’s settlement. And especially especially because it was so immediately easy to feel where the strongest cursed energy was coming from. Like this buzzing, tender freeze that washed over the both of them - pulling towards one spot on the cluttered beach.

A lone dock by the crashing shore. Splintering, crooked pillars with a deflated, banana yellow ducky floatie dangling between two planks. Likely yet another test of courage spot, popular among vacationing families with young siblings and cousins; eight children of varying ages missing.

“It is weird,” Satoru lowers his glasses along the bridge of his nose, “that all four of us were sent out. Nanami probably could’ve taken this out by himself if it’s just another grade two.”

Suguru shrugs from behind his friend, “Must be a good reason we were all sent out. Maybe the eight brats.”

“Jeez,” Satoru bats a hand backwards in an attempt to smack his friend, he misses completely, “At least sound sympathetic!”

Just before Suguru can reply, your voice is singing out their names. The two turn and Suguru is a little ashamed in the way his body stiffens at the sight of you in a cherry-print bikini. Shoko lingers at your back, texting who you all silently agree to be Utahime. You bounce into the spot before your friends, hands behind your back and a blinding grin curling into your cheeks.

“You look nice,” Suguru’s own voice is lost on him, heart beating so loud in his ears that he can’t quite hear himself. He hopes he sounded suave. He hopes it makes you forget every time he’s embarrassed himself in front of you, and all you see is the charming Suguru that your mom would just love.

“Aww, thanks!” you giggle, holding your bundled uniform tighter to your chest. And he’s even more humiliated over the hope that you’re trying to hide the pounding of your own heart.

Satoru nudges Suguru with an elbow and the favor is returned with a foot jamming down on Satoru’s shoe.

“Shoko and I both agreed,” you unknowingly interrupt their spat, “that before we all totally die, we should have fun on the beach!”

“You shouldn’t say it like that…” Suguru sighs, but the smile is still plain on his face. That question from earlier rises in him - why were you all sent here?

“I think that’s a great idea!” Satoru extends an arm towards you and gladly allows you to tug him towards the water, only releasing hold to let him reactivate his infinity.

Shoko watches from the shoreline with Suguru. She looks up at the man, flipping her phone shut, “You never complimented me, you know?”

“Huh?” Suguru looks first at Shoko’s twisted simper, her raised brow, her low hanging eyelids that let her lashes flutter against her cheeks. Then he notices - a black bikini hugging her own body. He flushes, not over the sight - but because he was caught, “Sorry.”

“You’re such a sucker,” she snickers.

He was caught with that familiar lump in his throat and lethally beating in his chest that only you could cause.

“Hey!” and, of course, it’s you again who calls to him, “C’mon, we wanna play chicken!”

And he’s caught again, red-faced; stripping off his shirt and shoes and socks while Shoko laughs at him. She holds out her phone and watches as he carefully wraps it in his uniform overshirt before trudging down the sands towards you and Satoru. Shoko wades through the crashing water towards Satoru, her hands find his shoulders when they all notice he hasn’t yet joined.

You’re pouting at him and Satoru is groaning, “Just get in! They’re pants - they’ll dry!”

“Easy for you to say,” Suguru huffs, squirming at the feeling of water sticking his pants to his shins as he slowly creeps into the chilled ocean, “Just use infinity for everything…”

“What was that?!” Satoru cups a hand over his ear, neck craning outwards as Suguru approaches, “Didn’t catch that last bit.”

“You’re annoying,” Suguru declares, latching to your side and crouching down just enough for you to scramble up onto his shoulders yet still keep his boxers dry. He feels your arms wrap around his neck, then your thighs bracket shakily around his waist. Suguru palms your thighs and helps lift you to sit up on the broad expanse of his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Satoru yawns, hands on his hips, as Shoko tries yanking herself up onto his back.

“Hey!” she snaps, pounding a fist into his back knowing full well he wouldn’t feel it, “Bend down, would you?!”

“Huh?” Satoru turns to stare down Shoko over his shoulder, sticking his tongue out at her, “Oh! Oops, sometimes I forget how short you are!”

“Hey!”

Suguru tilts his head back to look up at you, both arms secure around your legs, “You okay up there?”

You nod slowly, fingers gently brushing the stray hairs of his bangs from his face, “Uh-huh.”

“See,” Satoru gestures out to you and Suguru, “even our favorite bubble-brain got it done. You’re just not trying hard enough.”

And once again, Shoko digs a fist into his back (and then another when he mockingly hisses and whines).

…

“Don’t be long,” Shoko exhales, noxious smoke rising from her lips with a cigarette perched between two fingers and, in that same hand, texting Utahime once again.

“It’d be quicker if you weren’t slacking off,” Satoru ‘tsk’s, already heading down to the creaky dock with his hands stuffed in his pockets. His cheeks are flaring red from hours prior in the sun, even after the four of you had crawled into a hotspot restaurant to change and cool down.

“Thanks again,” Suguru still clings to your side and you let him, even leaning into it.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Sugu,” you grin.

You hadn’t been concerned with how civilians would perceive Suguru in your uniform skirt when he changed out of his soaked pants - not that he’d really care how non-sorcerers think of him anyway. But some bizarre part of you can’t stop looking at his legs in your skirt.

He insisted that you keep your leggings, so his skin is bare to the moonlight past his mid-thigh.

It’s bizarre, most definitely, the part of you that keeps staring at the flex of his thighs beneath your skirt as you both soldier through the sand dunes. Your hand finds Suguru’s and you cradle his arm against your chest, Satoru nowhere in sight. The both of you shuffling under the dock, eyes narrowing in search of your little white-haired friend. You shift closer to Suguru the longer your search goes, hand winding tighter within his.

Wind blows under Suguru’s stolen skirt and chills against your skin, the waves lapping at mushy sand. Your blood beats in your ears, Suguru already peering up at the midnight sky through the gaps in the dock.

Hot air puffs against the side of your face, pale skin bouncing moonlight into your peripherals in a flash, “Boo!”

“Ah!” you squeal, jumping somehow closer into Suguru, glaring at the cackling man through narrowed lashes, “Gojo!”

“Aw,” Satoru pretends to wipe a tear from his eye, flicking the nonexistent tear at you, “So formal! Aren’t we friends?”

“Not after that!”

“Satoru,” Suguru’s resilience is quieter than yours, the hand not entwined with yours is firm on his hip, “You really scared her,” you nod with a ‘hmph!’, “She was already on edge, looking for you no less.”

Satoru drapes himself over you like a frail Victorian woman in shock, “I’m sorry,” he wraps both arms around your neck and squeezes you into his chest, “Will you ever forgive me?”

“Hmm…”

A creak shutters just ahead. The deflated, wrinkly duck floatie shivers. All three heads turn into the abyss.

You tuck your chin close to your chest, wringing your arms around one of Suguru’s as you call, “Hey, Shoko?!”

“What?!” but her call is undeniably still in the direction where you three left her.

“Here it is,” Satoru murmurs, turning to grin at you, nudging his head towards the darkness just ahead, “Let’s go!”

Begrudgingly, you allow Suguru to guide you into the creaking, inky space under this dock.

“You’re making the curse stronger, you know?” Satoru turns to face you, walking backwards with both hands in his pockets.

You groan and go to argue back, but a blobby, brown, mucky curse plops in front of your group. The three of you pause and the little thing blinks up at your group.

It throbs.

“Ew!” you stomp down onto the curse, sand poofs up around your boot and the muddy body pops, splattering around your group’s feet.

“Didn’t even need a technique,” Suguru looks up from the scene of your crime, glaring back down into the darkness, “We weren’t sent here for that.”

The wind brushes past you again, your shoulders bunching up in a vain attempt to keep you warm with too-thin leggings. Suguru’s stolen skirt lifts and he pulls you tighter to his side. Satoru stares down the dock with a tight wound face, glasses slipping down his nose and eyebrows scrunched together with a scowl. You hadn’t seen him like this in a long while. Since Fushiguro, Toji had cut you down. Since that single, echoing shot in the dimly lit tomb’s main chamber.

“Ah…” Satoru switches the weight on his feet, snagging you and Suguru by the fronts of your uniforms and drags you both far to the right. Sand sloshes up in big, cloudy puffs; opaque, turquoise tentacles crash into the spot where your trio once stood, “This could actually be troublesome.”

“Stop being mysterious!” you pop your palm against the side of his head despite knowing his infinity is raised, “What’re you talking about?”

“This curse,” he rolls his eyes with all the annoying arrogance possibly mustered when you and Suguru tilt your heads at his pause, “This curse definitely has one of Sukuna’s fingers.”

“That would explain the loose ofuda,” Suguru notes.

You shiver at the mere idea of the King of Curses aiding your opponent, “How would that even happen?”

“Dunno,” Satoru shrugs and releases the both of you, flexing his fingers of the remaining tension, “We definitely need to take it back though.”

“Definitely,” you nod curtly.

A bulbous head sinks into the moonlight, shiny and smooth and thin, wiry purple webs spread across the surface. The gelatinous skin ripples, entire head jiggling before the turquoise splits and gives way to an eyeball - it bulges wide and the pitch black pupils darts around the surrounding area before settling, shakily onto you, Suguru, and Satoru.

Two big, clawed hands latch onto the back of your uniform top, retching you back. A look up confirms it to be one of Suguru’s more beastly stored curses. Your friend himself stares up at you, “Try and get the eye. Satoru and I will distract the tentacles.”

You nod eagerly, showing off a thumbs up before jamming your arms straight to your sides, “You got it!”

And like the most impressive cartoon clown, you explode out towards the curse. Thrown from Suguru's strong arms ( :D ).

You rip your hands away from your sides and throw them out in front of you, fingers stretching wide as you hurdle towards the fleshy eyeball. Your fingertips are mere inches from grazing the eye, when the pupil turns onto you. A loud crash through sand rings out behind you, two calls of your name, and your heart shoots into your throat.

And the eyeball sinks back with another round of grotesque, rippling skin. You slam into the round head and bounce back off with a freshly punched-out gush of air.

“I got you!” Satoru calls from below, arms out wide to catch you before you could plummet into sand.

“That was such a dirty trick,” you huff, steadying back onto your feet and glaring at the curse. The eyeball peeps out, bumping from the top of its head.

With a teasing hum, Satoru finally tucks his glasses into his pants’ pocket, “It’d be a lot easier if you could just hurry up and learn Domain Expansion.”

“You can’t do it either, Satoru!” Suguru comes to both of your sides.

One of the forefront tentacles flicks up violently, crashing through the unstable, weak wood of the dock. Slats and splinters rain down as the tentacle flies towards your spot on the shore. Satoru and Suguru split from your sides while you remain firm in the sand.

Your arms fly out wide, grinning as you cheer, “Come in for a big hug!” wrapping your arms around the heavy limb, you squeeze and squish your hands down into the fleshy tentacle. The cursed energy of your mother and your mother’s mother and her mother and so on, courses through you in a raging fire. Your nails dig into the curse as you shout once more, “Snip!”

And the tentacle goes limp.

Sliding out from under the weight, you spot Satoru wringing a hand back - some invisible, evolving mass heaving in his palm and drawing the large octopus head forward.

Satoru calls out, “If you wanna swallow this one, you better hurry up and do something, Suguru!”

Rolling his eyes, Suguru watches his Rainbow Dragon untangle, sand flapping out with its tail and tearing up a lonely palm tree. He sweeps you up and seats you in front of him while flying forward on the creature’s back.

“Try and keep it busy for now,” he sets you back down on relatively even sand, “Satoru, make it puke out the finger! I’ll get it from behind!”

“Phrasing!”

You eye the two special grades with a groan, “I’m not a diversion, ya know?!”

But Suguru is already behind and beneath the curse’s line of sight, drawing his own ball of mass into his palm.

And, unfortunately, this pseudo-plan is one you’re already familiar with.

You attack the limbs and divert attention with Satoru as back-up while Suguru condenses and consumes.

But, also unfortunately, this pseudo-plan isn’t usually employed against special grade curses post-swallowing Sukuna’s finger. A special grade (post-swallowing Sukuna’s finger) with the intelligence to avoid your Cursed Technique.

“This isn’t working!” you shout at Satoru after having yet another tentacle shot out of grabbing-range.

He lets one of the remaining tentacles bash close against his infinity, using the force to get to your side.

“Then how ‘bout a change of plans?” Satoru takes no feedback before shooting you up and towards the creature's head, snagging and yanking tentacles to twitch the head upwards.

A gaping, drooly maw is exposed; gnashing, gummy walls in place of teeth. And beneath layers of squishy pink, is a lashing gray tongue. And where there’s a tongue, there must be a stomach.

“Woohoo!” you flail out your arms, squishing between the gums to dig your nails into the creature’s tongue (“The radula!” Shoko would tease, if she were watching). A shaky, ugly groan comes from the creature and it hangs its mouth open, trying to slip you off its organ - the sand is far below. You squeeze tighter when a gush of saliva drips down the tongue - fire rushes through your veins, scorching at your fingertips as you chant, “Snip!”

From above, a loud retch, and the deep purple roof gapes with a single, fleshy finger falling out.

You reach out hurriedly, hands clapping around the cursed object before the sudden effect of gravity takes precedent. The sand begins rushing upward, wind whipping rudely at your hair as the curse above you is sucked into an ugly mauve ball in Suguru’s palm. Not seconds after absorbing the curse, he sends his Rainbow Dragon down after you.

One arm swings around you, pulling you over in front of him, while the other holds the grotesque orb. He holds it less gingerly than you hold Sukuna’s finger, cradling the item to your chest.

“Yay! Thanks, Sugu’,” you lean into his chest, hands still tucked to your chest as you both come back down onto the uneven, pitted sand with scattered, rooted palm trees laying around carelessly.

“Are you hurt?” Suguru scans the skin he can see, “It’s saliva wasn’t venomous, right?”

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” you shrug, “I’ll be okay!”

“And you, Satoru?”

“Don’t worry about me, I just got to be your pretty distraction.”

Suguru nods, turning away all the same to swallow his newest curse.

Satoru comes in front of you, white button up on display with his uniform jacket held out, he nods in the direction of your hands, “Here, we can wrap it in this until we get back.”

Dumping the finger into the center of his jacket, your attention is quickly stolen away by the way Suguru gags around the cursed orb. Satoru cradles the freshly wrapped finger to his chest, settling a hand against his friend’s quivering shoulder. You pat Suguru’s back, leaning your head against his arm as he shudders down the taste, watching his face stretch into a grimace.

But he quickly overcomes it when he notices how you and Satoru are preening over him, clearing his throat and shaking out his tense shoulders.

Another throat clears, further up the shore. A lithe, dainty hand waves, Shoko’s lips grinning around an unlit cigarette - her wave turns into a single finger, pointing up at the clear sky, “None of you put up a veil!”

“Oops…” you pout under the stars, they flicker as if winking just to tease you.

Satoru groans, flinging out his arms in exasperation, already wandering towards Shoko, “It’s nighttime, what does a veil even matter?!”

Suddenly, you perk up, nodding, “Yeah! Exactly!”

Suguru sighs, “Someone’s getting punished for this.”

You take his hand, dragging him through the sand, “Who do you think Yaga will choose?”

…

“It was her!”

Both Satoru and Suguru point over at you, brows furrowed in determination. Your hands squeeze tighter around your skirt (which you freshly got back from a re-pants Suguru), fists pushing into your thighs as the three of you kneel before Yaga.

Stubbornly, you shake your head, “No way, that’s really not fair! It was on all three of us!” when Yaga maintains his stern, crossed arms, you continue, “Shoko could’ve done it! I didn’t even really notice- “

Yaga unfolds his arms, waving you up into a stand, “You don’t have to give credit to save your friends when you’re who found Sukuna’s finger.”

Once again, you try to refuse, but Suguru beats you to the punch, “She was vital in obtaining the cursed object, we couldn’t have retrieved it without her.”

Satoru nods twice to his friend’s point.

“You can join Ieiri,” Yaga’s brows somehow wrinkle even more, a finger pointing in your face, “You’re free because you found the finger. Don’t forget a veil again.”

“Yes, sir!” you chirp, the back of your uniform collar being tugged upward by Shoko. She’s already dragging you out of your teacher’s (now principal’s) office, but you spare the time to turn and wave to your friends, “Good luck, ‘Toru and Sugu’ - I’ll get nice flowers to send your moms!”

Satoru squirms from where he’s kneeling, hand shooting up as soon as you’re out of the room. He can see it perfectly now, a big red welt on the back of his head and a matching one for Suguru, “Actually, she couldn’t have gotten the finger without us, so maybe this punishment isn’t necessary!”

Suguru glares at his friend, “You can’t undo a good deed like that, it’s embarrassing.”

“I could let you off,” Yaga hums, “But you forget, Gojo, this isn’t your first time refusing to put up a veil.”

“It’s not refusing!” he honestly just forgets sometimes! He swears!

Suguru would hit Satoru himself if he weren’t trying so hard to stay still, “You’re making it worse!”

…

“I hope they’ll be okay…” you murmur, hugging Shoko’s arm to your chest as the both of you head down the long steps from Jujutsu Tech, “Yaga didn’t seem too mad, right?”

Shoko watches your step down the stairs for you (your stare now focused on a gaggle of birds singing overhead), “We’ll see if white mums are on sale - take that as our omen.”

And when you both see that banana yellow sign in your favorite old lady’s flower shop advertising bundles of white chrysanthemums for only 1,000 yen a piece - you send a prayer to Satoru and Suguru’s souls.